Norrington's Revenge
by Rose O'Shea
Summary: A few months after Jack Sparrow's famous escape from the ramparts of Fort Charles finds Will, Elizabeth, Norrington and Jack himself seeking future happiness and revenge against old enemies.
1. Chapters 1 & 2

Norrington's Revenge

By Victoria Rose Ochocki

One

"Good Lord, James. If I see you looking out that window one more time, I shall shove you right out of it." Sarah Norrington shifted restlessly on the settee, and tossed her novel in a corner. Her brother turned his head to look in her direction, but she could tell he had only heard half of what she had said.

With an exasperated sigh, she rose and went to him, patting his shoulder awkwardly. They had never been very close even as children, and his years of Navy voyages and foreign postings had rendered them nearly strangers. "Do listen to me. She's thousands of miles away, and most likely married by now. You must buck up, dear, really you must. If you look about you I'm sure you may find any number of young ladies just dying to meet you." She poked him and he turned again with a frown.

"It won't be the same – don't you see?" he snapped. "I wanted _Elizabeth_, not one of those rattle-brains that are always giggling at me over their teacups." His features softened and he half smiled. "Elizabeth had spirit, and courage! I still can't believe she climbed out of the Dauntless' cabin window on a string of sheets. She was never keen on heights." His fingers twitched the sheer draperies back into place as his smile faded.

"Well, I for one am very glad they've all gone back to England. I still cannot understand her choosing a blacksmith over a Commodore." Sarah frowned and tried to look worldly. "You couldn't very well have attended the wedding, under the circumstances, and Governor Swann couldn't possibly give a reception and not invite you." She flicked her dark ringlets and admired her reflection in the nearest mirror.

Her brother pulled one of her curls and made an oddly droll face at her. "Thank you for your sage advice, little sister, but I hardly expect you to understand this sort of thing. Elizabeth and Will couldn't very well ask all of her relations to come here from England for the wedding, so naturally they would have to go back home. And her father's health was suffering in the tropics as well," he added. "Lieutenant-governor Bainbridge will no doubt be appointed Governor in due time. He's a good man."

"Oh, I care nothing for Bainbridge, he is quite aged." Norrington smiled at that, as Bainbridge was two years younger than himself. "But I very much like Captain Gillette. I think he may make an offer for me soon. I shall refuse him of course, at least at first." A sly smile crossed Sarah's face, and Norrington's grin vanished at the thought that his sister had learned all the wrong things at finishing school. Now that their mother had died, he would have to make sure his sister behaved properly. _Ye gods and little fishes._

"Right, well, I have barracks inspection in half an hour, and then luncheon with Bainbridge. Please tell Kidder that I plan to dine in this evening." The camaraderie of a few moments ago was lost; Sarah had no idea what she had said to put her brother back into his foul mood. He bowed formally, and strode out of the parlor.

He needed a wife, no doubt about it. But not a reckless girl like Elizabeth Swann, oh no! Someone quiet, and proper, and perhaps a bit old-maidish, as would suit James's advanced age. Sarah smiled again, imagining her tall handsome brother giving balls and dinners with his wife as hostess.

She herself would of course be the pretty girl that all the young men would dance with! She laughed out loud and twirled happily, letting her full skirts swirl about her as she imagined dancing with any number of officers. And after a year or so of constant enjoyment, she would have received half a dozen offers of marriage. She would choose the handsomest of them all, and have a fine home of her own.

"If he won't look for a wife himself, I shall just have to find one for him," she promised herself with a nod.

The merchantman _Yorkshire_ had the honor of transporting Weatherby Swann, his daughter and future son-in-law to the motherland. It was neither a fast ship nor a particularly imposing one, but it _had_ been available, and Elizabeth and Will wanted to be married as soon as possible; it was bad enough that the voyage to England would take over a month. Governor Swann's sister in London had been notified by a faster mail packet, and was even now planning the impressive ceremony and reception.

Her father had used his considerable influence to see that the ship was not over-crowded with passengers; each of them had a private cabin, the Governor's being situated directly between that of Elizabeth and Will for propriety's sake. But the young people still enjoyed long sunny days on deck, and often a stolen kiss or two when the crew was busy with their labors.

"Will, look! What on earth is that creature leaping above the waves?" Elizabeth laughed and leaned over the rail, pointing. Will broke off his conversation with the first mate, and hurried to her side.

"I've no idea, love. Mr. Collins, what is that thing?"

"Ah, Mr. Turner, that'd be one a' them porpooses. I've seen 'em before, but that was mostly when I was in me cups, so I was never certain if they was real or not!" Collins grinned like a schoolboy.

Elizabeth clapped her hands at the animal's antics, then turned and smiled radiantly up at Will. He couldn't resist; he slid one arm around her waist and kissed her, softly at first, then with building passion. Collins pretended to consider the weather, whistling ostentatiously.

Loud voices penetrated the lovers' distraction. "Captain, vessel to starboard!" "She's struck her colors, sir, no tellin' where she's from!" The captain's shouted command – "men to the ready, she could be in trouble, or it could be a trick!" The whipping of rope as sails were trimmed, the creak of wood as the _Yorkshire_ came about to receive the interloper. The oncoming ship was already much closer. "She's not disabled, Captain, moving fast!" The captain frowned and peered through his spyglass.

Will gripped Elizabeth's arm. "You'd better go below, there's no telling what this'll lead to."

Her eyes widened in outrage. "As if I would leave you here while I cower below decks, not knowing what's going on! Not likely. And if you think you can order me about just because we are to be married, you may think again, Mr. Turner!"

Will just shook his head. It wouldn't do to smile when she was being rebellious like that, it would set an unfortunate precedent. "Right. Then fetch a pistol, we don't need any slackers on deck." The crew was already busy adjusting their blades and checking the powder in their sidearms.

Pistol at the ready, Elizabeth stood unnoticed beside the captain as he scrutinized the ever-nearing ship. Her heart thudded as she stared into the distance. She'd seen horrors enough in her last brush with pirates, and now that she was so close to finally having her beloved Will, the thought of losing him in a sea battle was unbearable.

Cries of fury from the crew – "Her colors! The black flag!" Captain McKay hissed a curse, as he noted that the insignia on the flag indicated that quarter would be given and none harmed if the ship surrendered without a fight. Elizabeth gritted her teeth and tried to steady her hands on the butt of the pistol. It seemed that every time she wore a really stunning gown, something dreadful happened. It was enough to make you cry; but there was no time.

The captain heaved a sigh and turned to his first mate. "Strike our colors, Mr. Collins, and run up the white flag. We can't take the chance of battle with such important passengers aboard." Collins grunted unhappily, then turned to do his captain's bidding.

Elizabeth felt sick. Pirates would board their ship! And all they could do was hope that the bloody thieves would content themselves with taking the ship's cargo, and not harm the passengers or crew. In frustration she stared angrily at the nearing vessel, then suddenly sucked in a great breath. "Will! Look there – can it be?" Will stared too, then started to laugh.

Two

The captain gaped at the two of them as if they'd gone mad. "You will both go below. The deck is no place for you with those ruffians bearing down on us."

Elizabeth controlled herself first. "Oh, Captain, I'm sorry, really I am. But unless I'm very much mistaken, you're going to _want_ us on deck when this ship is boarded."

Will had mercy on the captain's nerves. "They may be pirates, sir, but their captain, shall we say, owes us a rather large favor." McKay merely pinched his lips together and stood at the ready. Elizabeth winked at Will, and gestured to him to follow her as she stepped out of sight.

It seemed only minutes till grappling hooks sunk into the railing of the _Yorkshire_ as the buccaneers drew beside them, and began to board. A scurvy lot they were, nearly all of them bearing fearsome scars, or even missing a body part.

McKay stood silent and proud at the mainmast as a ramp was laid and the pirate captain thumped across, a self-satisfied smirk on his roguish face. His long dark hair whipped in the wind, and his frock coat showed the wear and tear of months at sea.

The interloper held out a grimy hand, a single silver and onyx ring gleaming on one finger. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir, so sorry to inconvenience you." He smiled charmingly. "I just happened to notice that you're running a bit low in the water, and I felt the desire to be of some assistance in, shall we say, lightening your load?"

McKay gritted his teeth and ignored the proffered hand. "And if we refuse your kind offer, what then? You go on your merry way, and we remain best of friends?" The sarcasm was risky, but then so was a parlay with pirates.

The other commander just grinned. "Ah, but you're not going to do that, are you? Come, captain, we are both men of the world. Let us tread out the dance according to the steps prescribed, and we'll both be moderately happy men at day's end."

McKay was about to reply, when Will stepped forward and shouted, "You – pirate! Avast!" In a flash Will had his fine blade at the pirate's throat. Almost faster than the human eye could follow, the pirate drew his own blade and parried Will's.

McKay knew he had gone mad himself then, for the pirate captain burst out laughing, and excited cries came from his crew. Will grinned as he sheathed his blade and held out his hand to Captain Jack Sparrow. "You scallywag, I never thought I'd see you again!"

Jack took his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. Then his elated posture sagged, and an exaggerated look of resignation stole across his face. "I suppose this means I won't be taking home nearly as much booty as I'd hoped, eh?"

He cast soulful eyes to Elizabeth, who stifled her smile to give him a stern look. "Certainly not! You can hardly plunder Will's friends after he saved you from the noose, Jack." Suddenly she caught sight of someone over Jack's shoulder. _"Mr. Gibbs!"_ She was overjoyed to see her old friend, still Jack's first mate, and rushed to throw her arms around the crusty buccaneer. She was certain Gibbs was smirking at the crew as she turned back to speak with Jack.

McKay, still incredulous, holstered his pistol and signaled his men to stow their sidearms. "Would someone care to tell me what the _hell_ is going on?" he bellowed. Will took the poor man aside and explained as best he could.

Elizabeth noticed Jack giving her a sly look. "I suppose you and the whelp are very happy and all that; no second thoughts?" A gold tooth gleamed in the sun as he leaned closer to her, smiling.

It took her a moment to catch his meaning. "Captain Sparrow! I forbid any more of this talk, it's quite improper." But she smiled to take the sting out of her words.

Jack heaved a sigh. "Pity. You're the only woman I've ever known that hasn't clocked me in the jaw."

"It's never too late, is it?" she teased. "And of course, you usually deserve it!"

"Aye, perhaps. And where might your honored father be? I can't very well come calling without having a word with the Governor."

Elizabeth's brow creased. "He's been poorly for weeks. Started with a mild fever back in Port Royal, but he's never really been well since. He sleeps a great deal."

Jack glanced over his shoulder, then lowered his voice. "I don't expect you know where they keep the rum on this tub, do you?"

Her eyes slid to McKay and Will. "As a matter of fact, I just might. If I get the mate to bring out some supplies and such, will you take yourselves off? I really don't expect Captain McKay to ask you to stay for dinner."

Jack winked. "I know just what you mean, love. But if you'd be so kind as to introduce me, aye? Being anonymous has never been my forte." She could tell that his quick mind had already changed gears from raiding to rum, and breathed a sigh of relief that there would be no bloodshed to mar this fine day.

"Of course I shall. Captain McKay? I know this is rather odd, but… please allow me to present Captain Jack Sparrow, master of the Black Pearl." The two captains eyed each other for a long moment, then McKay bowed formally.

"I cannot say I am either pleased or honored, Captain Sparrow, but I will greet you as one seafaring man to another."

Jack swept his tricorn off his head and bowed in turn. "As for myself, I'm pleased as can be to meet any friend of Elizabeth and Will's. Magnificent hat you've got on. I'm very sorry, but we mustn't overstay our welcome. Elizabeth, if you could just take care of that little matter we mentioned, I'll pack up me crew and be on our way." He nodded to her significantly.

Elizabeth had already convinced Mr. Collins to let Gibbs and Cotton carry off some of the ship's best spirits, on the grounds that it would be reimbursed out of her father's personal fortune. Collins himself felt no inclination to get between thirsty pirates and their rum, and cheerfully unlocked the section of the hold where it was stored. Thus, as Captain McKay turned a puzzled look to Elizabeth, Gibbs and the crew returned to the _Pearl_ pleasantly weighed down.

Elizabeth drew a sigh of relief as Jack mounted the boarding ramp. He turned and smiled. "Gentlemen; my lady. This is a day you will always remember as the day that… oh, _bloody hell!"_ He stared, transfixed, into the distance.


	2. Chapters 3 & 4

Three

McKay followed his glance, and swore so profusely that Elizabeth blanched. "Damnable Spaniards – this voyage is turning into a nightmare!" He swiveled to Jack and spoke quickly. "Captain Sparrow, I know this is an unusual request and you owe me nothing. But you know as well as I that the _Yorkshire_ is simply not well-armed enough to fight off a Spanish privateer. She's carrying at least thirty guns."

Jack's jaw worked. "Risks of the game, I'm thinking. What are you asking of me?"

McKay visibly controlled himself. "I am authorized by the Crown to commission _you_ as a privateer for His Majesty's Navy. I will do so on condition that you agree to defend us against the Spaniards." He saw Jack's skeptical look. "And I'll make it worth your while. I have on board a hundred pieces of gold that I'm willing to render to you as reward. Oh, come on man!" he cried. "Your friends will otherwise end up as shark bait, or rotting in some Spanish hellhole waiting for ransom!"

An inordinately smug grin spread across Jack's face. "Well mate, when you put it that way, how can I resist?" This time, when Jack extended his hand McKay took it gladly.

Crossing the ramp to the _Pearl_, Jack's demeanor changed utterly from affable man of the world to that of a ship's captain gearing for battle. "All hands to the braces! Mr. Gibbs, order all cannon at the ready!" There was a madness of activity on the deck of the _Pearl_ as wind was measured and sails were trimmed or let out for maneuvering in close quarters.

Chaos reigned aboard the _Yorkshire_ as well, as long-unused cannons were primed by inexperienced sailors. One man lost two fingers when a spark ignited some loose powder. The ship's surgeon would be a busy man that day.

Elizabeth glanced to Will, trying to keep her voice light. "Well, we have a bit of time before the fun begins. I think I shall go and change."

Will blinked. "Elizabeth, how can you think of clothing at a time like this?"

She shrugged. "It's obvious that my new gown is an utter jinx. It's going over the side the instant I can get it off, and the damnable corset with it. I shall simply have to give up fashion entirely, and wear men's breeches whenever I sail."

Will was left speechless as Elizabeth stomped off to her cabin.

As the Spanish ship approached, the crew spent the time stowing gear, smoking a last pipe, and sharpening their blades. Will thought it was odd; the tales one heard never mentioned how much time aboard ship was spent merely waiting for something to occur. He thought the suspense might be worse than the actual battle.

But the first cannon shot came soon enough all the same; across the bow, such a cliché really, but still it nicked off the end of the bowsprit, and the outer jib collapsed like a dead man's shroud. Will wondered for one moment if Sparrow would renege on his word and simply retreat into the distance. The good Lord knew that the _Pearl _could outrun the privateer easily, especially as the Spaniards were far more interested in capturing a British merchantman than in tackling hardened pirates.

Of course the enemy would have no way of knowing that the "pirates" intended to defend the _Yorkshire_ rather than simply run away with whatever booty they'd already got. That element of surprise might just be what would save them. A trouser-clad Elizabeth burst out of her cabin with a cutlass in her belt and a musket in her hands, just as the _Pearl_ came about and let loose with a volley of cannon fire broadside to the attackers.

McKay bellowed orders, and the _Yorkshire_ let off its own cannon; a mere five to a side, but deadly nonetheless when they found their mark. The Spaniards returned fire, and Elizabeth gasped as splintered wood flew about them. She took cover behind the bulwark and steadied her musket. Still too great a distance to be a sure shot, but there was nothing to be gained by holding fire.

Now began the necessary maneuvering of all three ships as cannon were reloaded and pistol-fire crackled from the decks. Will fired pistol and musket, then crouched to reload as McKay took his place at the rail, spyglass in hand. The captain's voice held a note of satisfaction. "Ah, I can see the looks on their faces! Not expecting the _Pearl_ to fight back as well, were you? That's it, _panic_, ya bilge-vermin – we've got forty cannon to your thirty!" McKay lowered his glass and pulled a huge pistol from his belt, letting it off with a blast that rang in Will's ears.

Elizabeth fired another shot at that instant. A man on the enemy's deck dropped, his hand to his chest. She suddenly felt sick. It was quite different, killing a living man rather than an undead pirate.

The enemy ship began to peel away; could it be that they were giving up already? So it seemed, as they ran out their sweeps and stilled their guns. "Bloody cowards!" McKay snorted, but he didn't look at all sorry that the battle had been so brief.

The aftermath was almost as chaotic as the fight itself. The crew checked for damage, worked the bilge-pumps, and cleaned and stowed weapons. Will went to check on Elizabeth's father, and the surgeon saw to the wounded. McKay ordered Collins to signal "approach" to the _Pearl_, which had happily sustained almost no damage.

This time it was McKay who boarded the _Pearl_, smiling in gratitude as he shook Jack's hand. "Well done, Captain Sparrow! I must say this has been rather more excitement than I care for. I very much appreciate your keeping your word."

Jack raised one brow. "And why wouldn't I? With such attractive inducements as what you offered, eh?"

McKay cleared his throat. "Quite right, quite right. I shall be happy to issue your letter of marque immediately, if you will be so good as to tarry while I prepare it."

Jack held up a remonstrating finger. "And my gold."

"Yes, yes, and your gold. Yes indeed. Won't take me long." McKay sighed just a little. He wouldn't make a farthing off of this voyage, it seemed.

Elizabeth's shout floated across to them. "Captain Sparrow!"

Jack turned. "Aye love, what is it?" He couldn't help but smirk at her reply.

"Captain McKay would be honored to have you all as _dinner guests!"_

McKay's eyes met Jack's in a very male glance. "Women. Can't live with em, can't scuttle em either."

Jack snorted as they crossed the ramp to the _Yorkshire._

"Clearly, you've never been to Calcutta."

Four

"I tell you, James, this has got to stop. You know it as well as I do." Geoffrey Bainbridge was a refined man not given to strong emotions, but now he pounded a fist on the dining room table. The silver vibrated in response.

Norrington frowned and poured himself a glass of the excellent tawny port. "You're quite right. But we can't have our men running hither and yon every time the rumor of a raid comes to our ears. Half the time they're at the wrong end of the island when the bastards strike."

Bainbridge's face reddened slightly. "It's maddening that our intelligence has been so scanty and inaccurate. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that the raiders have been crossing a few palms with silver to make our informers cover for them."

Norrington brooded over his glass. "Mmm, could be; they've certainly taken enough booty to make it worthwhile. At least the raids are less deadly; we've had only six killed this past twelvemonth, if you don't count Barbossa's assault."

Bainbridge's glance rested on his friend's downcast face. "Don't blame yourself, James. Certainly nothing you could have done to prevent that one. But this strike-and-scatter raid pattern disturbs me. It's as if there is a larger plan behind it."

"I'm trying not to allow my mind to wallow in that thought, Geoff. Don't want to drive myself daft thinking the world's out to get me," Norrington grinned slightly.

The downstairs maid set a platter of fruit at Bainbridge's left hand, bobbing a curtsey as she did so. "Ah, thank you, Molly. Ask Jennings to open another bottle of port as well, would you?"

Norrington shook his head. "My thanks, friend, but I must be off soon, and you know how it affects me." He sliced a bit of mango off the pit and popped it into his mouth.

Bainbridge barked a laugh at that. "Oh, right, I've seen you in your cups so often, how could I forget? Damn, James, you have never been sheets-to-the-wind in your life, that I know of." He filled his own glass again.

The set of Norrington's jaw told Bainbridge he'd hit a sore spot. "Best to keep it that way, don't you think? There's very little I loathe more than a drunken sot. And being a gentleman is no excuse for that lack of self-control." He cleared his throat and gave a short laugh. "I'm sorry. But you see my point? One glass and there I go."

_Hmm, something very personal going on there_, Bainbridge reflected. But he rose when Norrington did, and shook his friend's hand warmly. "To each his own, then. Give my best to your charming sister."

"I shall indeed. I fear I may soon need to arrange for a paid companion for her; she is becoming rather wild here in Port Royal, in a household of mostly men. Let me know if you hear of a suitable gentlewoman, will you?" Norrington's face held his characteristic half-smile.

"Of course I will, though I should expect her to soon receive an offer or two of marriage, and then she will no longer be your problem."

"Oh no. She will _always_ be my 'problem', Geoff. She's all I have left of family." With that, Norrington took his leave, and a thoughtful Bainbridge sat down to finish off the port.

---------------------------------------------------------

Captain Gillette joined Norrington and his sister for dinner the next evening. Kidder admitted him with a bow, and escorted him to the front parlor of the comfortable townhouse. Sarah had strategically placed herself before the window, where the golden light of the fading afternoon lit her hair and made her skin glow as she smiled up at him.

Gillette bowed over her hand, his face flushing beneath his heavily powdered dress wig. "You're looking very well tonight, Miss Norrington," he said quietly.

Sarah rose and flipped open her fan. "Why thank you, Captain. It's very kind of you to dine with us this evening, with all your duties and such. I think my brother works you men much too hard!" She smiled again.

"Nonsense, Sarah," her brother commented brusquely. "Gillette wouldn't dream of shirking his duties. I fully expect him to be given a larger ship very soon now, he's done so well with the _Cornwall_."

"You must show me around your ship very soon, Captain. James won't let me on board the _Dauntless_. Some foolish thing about superstitious sailors." She pouted prettily as she took her brother's arm, and they processed into the dining room.

"I'm afraid it's out of the question, Miss Norrington. My sailors are even worse than the Commodore's, I'm sorry to say. If I allowed a woman on board a naval vessel, they would be tying knots inside out for a month."

Her shoulders stiffened with irritation. "The crew of the merchantman that brought me here certainly didn't share their fears. Oh very well, just leave me here to rot while you men have all the adventures."

Norrington gave her a stern look as Kidder ladled soup. "Perhaps you'd rather be in England still, stuck out in the wilds of Dartmoor with cousin Edwards and her nine children?"

The spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. "Good Lord, no. I'm sorry, James, I don't mean to be cross. But it has been a very lackluster month since I got here, I must say!" She slurped her soup.

Norrington winced. "Then I've done my job. We're working to make Port Royal a sober, productive and respectable town. Our vigilance is what keeps this place from becoming another Tortuga. If I had my way, half the taverns would be shut down, and then we'd start on the gambling dens." He gave Gillette a brief smile.

It wasn't easy dining with military men, Sarah mused later as the cheese course was presented. It had been "pirates this" and "raid that" and conspiracy talk all during the meal. Gillette held himself to a single glass of wine, seeming to understand her brother's longstanding dislike of heavy drinkers, and the man obviously had no idea how to flirt properly. She really must encourage James to have larger dinner parties, or she might expire of utter boredom.

The gentlemen skipped the usual after-dinner port, and joined her for tea and cakes in the parlor. Sarah felt an honest pride in pouring from the family silver service, one of the few things left after her mother's death and the selling of their possessions to pay the ensuing debts. But she wouldn't think of that, or the year between finishing school and coming to Port Royal, when she had lived on the charity of her relations, and played nursemaid to the little Edwardses.

Soon Gillette rose to depart, bowing once again over her hand. "Miss Norrington, despite what the Commodore has told me about your mother's sad death, I cannot help but rejoice that it has brought one of England's fairest to our little island. I hope that I may help to make your life here a bit more amusing, if the Commodore will permit."

She positively beamed up at him, though his narrow face was not terribly attractive at that angle. "That would be lovely, Captain! I shall look forward to it." And, she mused, if she had any skill at all, she would be getting a tour of the _Cornwall. _


	3. Chapters 5 & 6

Five

Captain McKay was surprised to realize that he had enjoyed Jack Sparrow's visit. The man was a scallywag and no mistake, but clever and well-educated for all his lowborn accent and slovenly person.

Will and McKay were watching the _Black Pearl_ depart, after a fine meal and the completion of Jack's letter of marque. The _Pearl_ was no longer a pirate ship, but an authorized agent of His Majesty's navy, a privateer destined to make unofficial war against any ship that flew an enemy flag. Since Britain was perpetually in conflict with France, Spain or both, the _Pearl_ would have rich pickings enough without needing to trouble British ships. With the stroke of a pen, McKay had changed a powerful attacker into a fearsome ally.

Of course, there was the gold it had cost him. McKay grumbled as he lit his pipe. "What a day. I'm now one step above beggary. For some reason I had the thought that Captain Sparrow might be noble and refuse my offer of gold."

Will laughed out loud at that. "Not Jack! It's a matter of principle with him. I only wish I knew how he came to engage in piracy. I'd bet there's a story there."

McKay nodded. "And not a pretty one, I'm guessing. Something he said led me to think he's been to Arabia, and not under the happiest of circumstances."

"I know nothing of those lands. I've only ever been to Jamaica and London. I'd like to see more of the world, but I must think of Elizabeth. We shall probably live on her family estate in Kent." He sighed. "At least I've got funds, thanks to what I took away from the Isla de Muerta. I'd hate to live off her father's charity."

McKay gave him a surprised look. "She seems a sturdy lass, not given to faints or fits. Have you _asked_ her what she would like?"

"Uh – asked her? Well… no."

"You young people. You should probably not be allowed to marry till you're at least thirty." McKay's pipe went out as the wind rose.

"That would probably kill me," Will remarked. His glance sought out Elizabeth. True to her word, she had worn her makeshift men's garb ever since the battle; the beautiful gown had long since gone to Davy Jones' locker. He thought she looked wonderful.

McKay followed his glance, then laughed at his expression. "Lovesick hound you are. Mark my words and talk with her, she may surprise you."

----------------------------

Mr. Gibbs took the wheel as his Captain extended his spyglass and scanned the horizon. "I'm not sure I can get used to this notion, Captain, us bein' legal and all."

Jack's lopsided grin returned. "The Spaniards won't see it that way. To them, and the French, and everyone else we're still pirates. This just gets our own countrymen off our backs." He collapsed the spyglass with a snap. "I wish our friend Norrington were here – imagine how frustrated he'd be to know that we're now safe from his noose."

Gibbs laughed out loud. "He'd pop the curls off that fancy wig, and no mistake. Poor lad's got a mainmast for a backbone; no give at all."

Jack returned to the helm, and Gibbs bellowed a few good-natured orders to the crew as the wind shifted. The minor damage sustained in the battle had already been repaired, and the _Pearl_ was in pursuit of a French barque northeast of Martinique. They outgunned the French ship 3 to 1, and the battle was brief and one-sided.

Gibbs watched his captain's expression as they left the enemy with all but her rear mast shattered, having "confiscated" the hold's cargo of rum, spices and gunpowder, as well as some much-needed medicines. Jack was humming a tune as he guided the _Pearl_ north. This privateering thing might not be so bad, Gibbs reflected, if the captain was happy and didn't chafe at being unable to raid British ships and ports.

"You're in a mighty fine mood, captain," he commented. "Lookin' forward to nabbing a Spanish cargo or two, now that we've gouged the frogs?"

Jack's eyes shifted slightly, his expression unchanged. "I've got something a little more exciting in mind, mate. Something I've been meaning to do for a long while."

The growl in his voice gave the first mate a chill down his spine. "Aye, and might I be knowin' what that'd be, sir?" Gibbs wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Jack checked his compass and adjusted his course slightly. "I've a mind to go after another treasure; one that's dear to me heart." His lip curled slightly.

Gibbs coughed, and took a quick swig from his flask to bolster his courage. "I'm sure the crew will be behind ye all the way, Captain, whatever it is." He _definitely_ didn't want to know. Ignorance was bliss.

"Ah, Gibbs, you're a smart man to not ask too many questions." Jack hummed for the space of a minute or two. "There's an Irish gentleman, and I use the term loosely, who owns a very large plantation on Santiago Island. In addition to his extensive land holdings, he controls a large part of the Spanish slave trade from Africa. He makes the likes of us look like the heavenly chorus."

Gibbs swallowed hard. "And we're going to raid his ships? Jack – Captain – that sounds daft to me! What'll we do with a shipload of slaves?"

Jack's face was twisted in a sneer now. "I don't want his slaves nor his ships. But there is something of his that I want very much. And I have it on the best authority that what I want is going to be aboard a nice little schooner of only six guns, departing for England two days from now."

Gibbs' eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the tone in his captain's voice. "I'm afraid to ask why we're doing this at all, chasin' after one particular ship instead of raiding whatever we come across." His hand shook every so slightly as he screwed the lid back on his flask.

A laugh erupted from Sparrow as he noted his mate's nerves. "It's very simple, eh? No mystery." Then his scowl returned. _"I've got a score to settle." _

Six

"Morning, Miss Sarah. Lovely new bonnet that is!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Jamison, I brought it with me from England and just took it out of the trunk this morning." Sarah smiled cheerfully at the beaming owner of the bake shop on Market Street. The wharves began just one street over, and she could hear the rhythmic slapping of water and the shouts of sailors and officers.

That worthy lady nodded knowingly. "Must be a special day then, to have you wearin' it. A young gentleman I'm thinking, eh?" She chuckled at her own perceptiveness.

Sarah flushed. "Oh! Ah, yes. Captain Gillette is meeting me here. He's offered to escort me on a tour of the port. My brother is usually so busy that I haven't seen but a tiny bit of the town, you know, and I'm burning with curiosity to see all the excitement." She bought a sticky bun and popped a piece in her mouth.

"Well miss, the excitement we have around here is usually not the pleasant sort. Horrid pirates showin' up at all hours and blasting the devil out of our town, not my idea of fun at all. The Commodore's done a fine job of making the town a great deal safer for us tradespeople, and we're grateful for it I'm sure!" The hefty baker-woman energetically kneaded a huge mound of bread dough in a wooden trough.

"I suppose so. It's just that I had imagined how thrilling my life here would be. I expect you think it's silly, but I spend nearly all day in the house or the garden, except when I come to the shops. James is very strict about my not wandering off alone, and we really can't afford another servant just to go trotting around with me." She sighed gustily and took another bite.

Booted feet approached the open shop door, and Sarah turned to see Gillette removing his hat as he bowed. "A very good morning to you, Miss Norrington." He had an odd little smile on his face; but then his whole face was rather odd.

"Good morning, Captain. I've had my breakfast and I'm ready for my tour!"

"Wonderful. I thought we would start with a walk over the old stone bridge, there's some very nice views from there. Then perhaps a stroll along the sea wall, if you like." Sarah breathed in the fresh sea air as they set off.

"Watch your step, now, the cobbles can be very rough." Gillette's proud posture as they walked told Sarah that he was congratulating himself for being seen with the Commodore's sister. She felt a bit like a well-groomed champion hound, or an especially large fish he'd caught and was showing off.

"This bridge is the very one over which the pirate Jack Sparrow attempted to make his escape. Look there, you can see the chinks left by the bullets we sent after him as he ran. I'm sure the Commodore has told you a great deal about the incident." His chest was actually puffing out. "A terrible battle it was, too; but in the end we were victorious."

The walk might be ordinary, but the story caught her attention. "Mrs. Jamison was telling me about the attack on the town. It sounded terrifying." She adjusted her bonnet to keep the sun off her face.

Good Lord, the man was swaggering. "I'm thankful to say that we acquitted ourselves with honor, Miss Norrington. We lost many good men that day, but the result is what matters. Bloody-handed pirates sent to the depths or the gallows."

"Mr. Sparrow must have been a horrid man."

Gillette clenched his teeth; it had the unfortunate effect of making him resemble a ferret. "Sparrow managed to escape. But the other pirate crew was entirely defeated after a pitched battle. One or two managed to leap overboard, but the rest have gone to their just desserts."

Sarah resisted rolling her eyes. The man had no idea how to tell a story, that was plain; she would simply have to ask her brother for more details. Her eyes lit on the ships docked in the bay. "Oh! Is the _Cornwall_ within view? I should very much like to have a look at it."

Gillette halted, and stood rather too close to her as he pointed. "She's the two-masted schooner right close to us, with the green trim. Not impressive, but a good stepping stone for my career."

Sarah quickened her steps and made for the _Cornwall_'s dock, Gillette hustling along beside her with a distressed expression. "Miss Norrington – not sure your brother would approve – a great deal of rough language."

The _Cornwall_ was beautiful, she thought, watching as sailors shouted to each other and tightened rigging. Just the sort of ship one would like to own oneself. Fore-and-aft rigged for easy handling by a small crew, good lines, and she was pleasing to the eye as well. Sarah fell in love with the ship right then and there. "She's lovely."

"Right, erm, we'd better be getting along home, don't you think? I mean, it's been an honor to escort you, but I'm afraid duty is calling." Gillette sounded out of breath. He was quite irritating, really.

"Very well, if we must return we must. It was very kind of you to make time for me, Captain." She favored him with a cool smile as they made their way back through the town.

----------------------------------------

The jolly boat _Blade_ approached Port Maria under cover of dusk and a lowering fog. The north side of the island generally had brisker winds, and the accompanying heavy storms, but tonight was unnaturally still. This suited the crew of the _Blade_ very nicely indeed.

They rowed in silence, the tillerman giving orders with hand signals, until they were able to draw the boat up on the sandy shore a hundred yards from the tiny dock. Eight men went over the side into the shallow lapping wavelets; the ninth remained in the prow, ready to fire the single swivel gun against intruders.

Anyone watching might have been puzzled by the men's silence, or the low clatter of iron and steel, and especially the hunched way the figures scuttled forward over the sand until they reached the cover of vegetation. But the watcher would not have wondered for long; at least not past the moment at the edge of the town when the men straightened, all of them letting out terrifying yells and drawing their weapons.

The attack might look chaotic, random, to the untrained eye; but the madness had a distinct purpose, creating distraction and drawing attention from the two brigands who split from the main group and hacked their way into the small Customs House. They scooped up cash boxes and small arms and returned to the _Blade_ in less than twenty minutes, emptying their pistols as they passed through the town. A man and a teenage boy lay crumpled in the street, dead or dying. The wharf tavern smoldered from a thrown torch recently extinguished, its shattered window mirroring the splintered pub sign.

The cries of outraged townspeople reached the ears of the pirates, but they were already aboard the _Blade_ and making good their escape. One burly man slapped another on the back as they congratulated themselves on a smooth raid. "Bloody hell, I thought you'd come back empty-handed this time f'sure! How'd you get in, eh? Bit of slap-and-tickle with the inspector's wench?" He laughed raucously as they bent to their oars.

The second pirate snorted, stringy hair swaying as he pulled. "Cor no, I just whacked the door latch wi' me hatchet till it fell apart like a boiled chicken. Didn't take long, cos I was enthusiastic an' all." He cackled, his fetid breath leaving an oily stain on the humid air.

"I got some good stuff from the pub, a barrel of salt meat an' a pair of ladies' knickers." The first man chuckled evilly. "She didn't much want ter give em up, neither." The entire crew howled at that, and they pulled with a will as the tillerman began to raise the sail.

"Come on, lads, keep pullin'. Tomorrow Sir Robert's ship will be calling for us, and we got to be looking sharp for it. An extra tot of rum for us all tonight!" The cheers of the brigands rode the mist into the sorrowful night.


	4. Chapters 7 & 8

Seven

"Goodness, Miss, I'd have expected a fine young lady such as yourself to be a bit slimmer about the waist. Not that you're, I mean, oh dear." The little seamstress bit her lip and bent to her measurements again, her face flushing with effort and embarrassment alike.

Elizabeth stifled a giggle. "It's quite all right, Mrs. Adams, I don't want the gown to fit too tightly anyway." _They'll never crush me in one of those bloody corsets again if I can help it,_ she added to herself._ I only wish I could have forced down a few more eggs at breakfast._ She deliberately pooched out her stomach as far as it would go, the huge meal she'd eaten earlier helping considerably.

Mrs. Adams was vastly relieved that Elizabeth had not taken her comment in the wrong way. The good Lord knew, enough of her clients were in an "interesting condition" when they were fitted for their wedding dresses.

"I believe it will be quite stunning nonetheless, Miss. You'll be a beautiful bride." Mrs. Adams beamed at her as she packed up her tapes and notions.

Elizabeth blushed at that. To finally be married to Will! "Are you sure it can be ready for Saturday next? We can omit the lace if it delays–"

"Not to worry, Miss, it's plenty of time. I've had my girls working on it for two weeks now, ever since your aunt came to us with the order. All we needed was actual measurements to put the finishing touches on it. You'll be Mrs. Turner in ten days, and you'll take your vows in the loveliest gown in London."

_Mrs. William Turner_. It was thrilling; it was terrifying. A governor's daughter and a blacksmith's wife; she would be a social oddity here in London. Would Will feel out of place at the Swann estate in Kent? Not for the first time, Elizabeth wondered what her new husband would do with himself all day. He could hardly work the forge and shoe horses for her father; the estate was fully staffed and very well managed. Will really wasn't used to idleness.

"I won't think about it. Drive myself daft," she murmured, and focused on happy thoughts of her beautiful gown; of finally being able to kiss Will as much and whenever she liked; of seeing his beloved face over breakfast each day. Feeling more cheerful, she allowed her maid to lace her into a loose day-gown, and joined her father in the sitting room.

Weatherby Swann half-reclined in an overstuffed chair, wigless and dressed in a warm robe. Elizabeth smiled as the father she had always loved snored softly. He looked very worn from their journey; more so from the lingering fever that had marred their last week in Port Royal.

Elizabeth knelt and lay her head against his knee; he awoke slowly and gazed down at her. "Good morning, daughter. I fear I have had a bit too much breakfast, it has made me dozy."

"But we need to feed you up, Father; your appetite's been very poor the last few months. It is a very good thing Doctor Gillespie was able to attend you during the crossing." She patted the knee of his dressing-gown. "He believes you will be much better now that you are out of the tropics. I'll send for some tea."

Once the tray arrived, Elizabeth busied herself with pouring and sugaring her father's cup. He wheezed and sat upright. "You look so much like your mother, doing that. You will make Will a fine wife."

"Be sure and tell him that often, Father." Elizabeth gave him a saucy wink, then became thoughtful. "We both owe you a great deal, for protecting us after we helped Captain Sparrow escape. It must have taken a great deal of your influence, even though I _am_ your daughter." Her hand trembled just a little as she handed him his tea; they hadn't been able to have a good talk since his illness.

"Nonsense, any father would have done the same. A great many people owed me favors; I merely called them in." He cleared his throat and sipped his tea. "That hits the spot. I must admit, I don't miss the duties of Governor very much. Someone always wants something from you."

"I think you miss the hat, though," she teased gently. "When you are well again we shall get you fitted up in the latest London style."

His expression grew serious. "Now that you've had time to really think, are you still sure this is what you want? He may have money, but he has no family, no connections – "

"Will has _me!_ And I have enough family for the both of us," she said spiritedly. "But Father, I do wonder what he will occupy himself with. I can't see him being a man of leisure, can you?"

There was a thunderous knocking at the front door. They heard their manservant respond, and the approach of booted feet led by a swifter, lighter step. Browning burst into the room and announced, "Mr. William Turner to see Miss Swann!" barely ahead of the advent of Mr. Turner himself, plumed hat in hand.

"Will!" Elizabeth rose and hurried to him. "We weren't expecting you at all this morning. Is something wrong?"

He glanced to her father, who was studiously adding milk to his tea, then gave her a hearty kiss. "I just couldn't stay away. A good morning to you, Governor."

"To you as well, Mr. Turner. Or perhaps I should begin calling you by your Christian name, since I will soon be your father-in-law?"

"I would be honored, sir." Will bowed, hopeful that this familiarity meant the Governor had given his wholehearted assent to their marriage. "I apologize for the intrusion, but it was either pay a visit or go mad with boredom sitting in my lodgings."

Swann gave a slow smile, watching the young man with his daughter. She was radiant beside him. Yes, this was the right thing. "I hope you will think of me as a second father, Will, if you can tolerate it. I will try not to be too overbearing."

Elizabeth laughed. "Oh my, you _are_ improved – you are becoming positively mischievous."

Swann drew himself upright as far as the chair would allow. "Children, I have something to say to you both." Will glanced to his fiancé, and they both took a place on the settee.

"I have given this a great deal of thought, and I hope you will humor me. I have a great favor to ask of you."

"Anything in my power, sir." "Of course, Father!"

He gazed out at the rain for a long moment before beginning. "After your nuptials, you will of course go to Hastings Hall for your honeymoon. I think you will find Kent much more pleasant than London this time of year." They both nodded, having discussed this previously. "After a couple of very delightful weeks, I expect my new son-in-law to be out of his mind with tedium. Oh, not that it would be your fault, daughter, but he is a man of action. I think it obvious that he needs productive activity to be truly happy, and while producing offspring may take quite a bit of your time–" he broke off as Elizabeth blushed wildly.

Swann drained the last of his tea. "Ahem. Yes. At any rate, I propose that at your own time and convenience, you will return to Jamaica, and look after my landholdings there. Should keep you both quite busy, eh?"

Elizabeth was stunned. "Father, we couldn't; who will take care of you?"

"Your aunt has done very well till now, and she insists that I am very little trouble. Personally I think she is a bit bored herself, and I am a very engrossing project." He grinned briefly. "Do consider my suggestion. You needn't leave immediately of course; but it would ease my mind considerably to know that my future grandchildren's inheritance is well looked after. And now, I think I shall retire for a little nap."

Browning was summoned, and helped the Governor to his room. Elizabeth chewed her lip for a moment, then turned her gaze to her fiancé. "Well, what do you think? I'm willing to return if you are."

In an instant Will's face went from solemn to overjoyed. "It's exactly what I would have chosen! Are you sure?"

She tugged on his shoulders until his face came very close to hers. "Quite sure. After all…" She brushed her lips across his, and he breathed in quickly.

"…We can't have you getting bored, now can we?"

Eight

"Hard to port, Mr. Gibbs. It seems we've found her."

Gibbs grunted, then gave the orders. He'd really hoped that they would fail to intercept this mysterious target of Jack's. He still had no idea why they were hunting the _Catalina_, nor what they'd find aboard.

She was a sitting duck really, a nearly unarmed mail packet bound for Holland with documents and other items requiring speed, and of little value to anyone but the recipients. He could simply not fathom what his Captain wanted from this adventure.

They were three leagues northeast of Santiago Island as the _Pearl_ maneuvered astern of the _Catalina_ and hoisted the black flag. The crew was alert and ready with boarding axes and pistols primed, when the _Catalina_ struck her colors and raised a white pennant in surrender. Jack smiled grimly. "Have a care in boarding, lads. It seems much too easy."

Gibbs manned the helm as the boarding party crossed, Jack following as usual once a plank had been laid. It was eerily quiet on deck; not a soul to be seen, crew nor passengers. Jack frowned. "Where the devil are they? I can't bloody negotiate with thin air." He ordered a search of the cabins and hold. His crew scattered, pistols at the ready.

Jack himself drew his sword and prowled aft to the captain's cabin. As he reached the door, a shout came from the forecastle. "We found 'em, Captain! Skulking like dogs in their den." Cotton and two others hauled out the master and the first mate, shoving the rest of the cowering crew down into the hold and bolting the hatch.

Hastening to the main deck, Jack stalked to where the trembling men stood, held upright mainly by the strength of his own crew's arms it seemed. He halted before the ship's master, a scrawny man whose feathered hat bobbed as he shook. "Gentlemen, I will not keep you long. You have something I want. Once I get it I will take myself and my crew off. If I might have your name, Captain?"

Cotton's eyes traveled to that of his captain's. This was not the usual affable Jack; his words were polite, but there was some new tone in his voice that sent an unaccustomed shiver down the backs of his crew.

The _Catalina_'s captain sucked in a breath. "Patchell. C-captain Sean Patchell."

Jack's lip positively curled as he lifted his blade to Patchell's jugular for emphasis. "A pleasure. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Your lord and master may have mentioned me to you."

Patchell's eyes rolled backwards in fear. "Ah, Mother of God, we're all goin' ta die!" His first mate gave him a terrified glance, clearly uncomprehending.

Jack laughed shortly. "Aye, I see he did indeed mention me. I don't suppose he told you about our mutual history? No, I didn't think so. As I recall, Sir Robert very much values his reputation, eh? Just nod, you poor benighted bugger. I won't harm you or the crew, long as I get what I came for."

Patchell made a massive effort to control himself. "And what might that be, pirate? We've naught of value aboard, save for our provisions. You're welcome to that, and begone to the devil with you."

But Jack had already turned his back, shouting over his shoulder, "To the hold with 'em, I expect I know where to find what I seek."

Alone, he returned to the captain's cabin, while his crew scoured the ship's stores. He stood before the cabin door for a moment, his hand caressing the fine mahogany almost thoughtfully as he listened. Then he reached for the latch and flung the door open. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he sang softly.

He was met with a furious barrage of bottles and tankards; then a _cutlass_ came at him. If there had been more space it might have been the end of Jack Sparrow, but the close quarters made it simple for him to duck his attacker's awkward slashing and disarm her, for it was indeed a woman. He grinned as he gripped her wrists, and the cutlass fell. "Miss O'Shea, I take it? You've got your brother's charming personality, I see."

Seeing her advantage lost, Caitlyn O'Shea shook back her hair and assumed a composed stance. "You have the advantage of me, _pirate_. Am I to have the dubious honor of knowing your name?"

Jack grinned at her bravado. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, commander of the _Black Pearl…_" his smile faded. "And your brother's mortal enemy."

Unintimidated, she dared a grin back at him. "Fine words for a man with two buttons missing from his frock-coat. Taking this ship won't hurt my brother much more than stubbing his toe would; he's got dozens more!"

"Twenty-eight to be exact. Eight schooners, five barques, 14 merchantmen, and one snow, currently undergoing repairs in Port Royal. A wealthy man, your brother. Also owns an estimated three thousand slaves on various plantations, and hundreds more in the process of being dragged from their homes and shipped like so much salt beef to our beautiful New World." He released her hands and kicked the cutlass well out of reach. "Did I forget anything?"

_Good Lord, the man knew far too many particulars of her brother's assets. _Her eyes dropped uncertainly for a moment. She had her brother's red hair, but her eyes were a clear blue rather than Sir Robert's muddy brown. "It is none of my doing, the business interests my brother pursues." She lifted her gaze to his face again, and was chilled by his expression. "Why don't you get on with your plundering and be off? Surely you have more important things to do than robbing us of our pathetic supplies." Her hands nervously smoothed down her hair.

"Ah, but you see, love… everything I need and want is right here in this cabin. I came here for one thing only. And that," he stepped closer to her, his face grim, "Is you, your own self. I want nothing else."

This was very bad. Caitlyn stifled the urge to panic. Now would be a good time for some devastatingly witty, brave remark, but all that came out of her was a choking cough.

"Aye, I see you take my meaning. Your brother took from me something I value very highly. Something I would kill to regain, but I can never get it back. And I vowed that he would pay for it, Miss O'Shea."

"Really, Captain Sparrow, I am not to blame…" _I will not squeak, damn it all._

"Quite true, you are not; but you see," Jack spread his hands, palms up, "I just don't care. I've finally got the opportunity to hurt your brother, and I'm taking that opportunity. It's nothing _personal_."

_Dear God, if I survive this I will kill Robert, barehanded if need be,_ Caitlyn reflected. She began backing up as Jack stepped closer to her, smiling down at her in a most threatening manner.

With a swift movement he stripped off his heavy captain's coat. One strong hand shot out and grasped her by the wrist. He deftly parried her swift attempt to kick him hard. "Ah, ah, none of that. Shortly we will be joining my crew aboard the _Pearl_, but first, there's something I need you to do for me, Miss O'Shea."

She gulped and kicked out again. He laughed in her face and backed her against a wall. "That's really not a safe thing to do to a pirate, love. You may as well get used to following my commands. And the first one is…" Caitlyn stared at him defiantly.

"_**Sew the buttons back on me coat." **_


	5. Chapters 9 & 10

Nine

"I'm that sorry, m'lord, I just pass on wot they tell me, I don't make no decisions." The slatternly barmaid pretended to wipe down the table before her grime-smeared customer, then stealthily passed him a small bag that jingled slightly.

The man scooped it up neatly and pocketed it. "Now you listen to me, girl. The powers that be are growing more suspicious by the day. If I don't feed them at least one piece of accurate information bloody damn soon, this whole game will be up. And believe me, at that point I'll have no reason not to tell everything I know." A curiously pale hand and arm shot out from the man's heavy jacket and grabbed her wrist.

The girl's eyes bugged out. This one had never gotten violent; his personal timidity was becoming a standing joke in this seedy and violent section of town. "But sir, I dunno wot ta tell 'em, not that they'd listen to the likes of me."

"You will make it very clear to your master that he must throw me a bone. Tell him to choose whatever raiding party he wishes; someone he doesn't much care for will do. Then you tell _me_ exactly where and when, so that I can get the Navy off my back. Is that clear?"

She nodded gravely, wishing to heaven she'd never gotten involved in this. But the money had been good; had been necessary. "Yes, m'lord. Come back three days from now and I should have heard back."

The man rose, his expression grim. "Three days, no more."

-------------------------------------

Caitlyn O'Shea's face burned with mortification as she was hustled aboard the _Black Pearl._ First treated like a seamstress, then dragged onto a pirate ship as if she were a sack of flour! It was not to be borne. As soon as she gained her feet, she drew herself up proudly. "Really, Captain Sparrow, I don't know what you think you're about. Attacking one of my brother's ships is utterly mad."

The crew smirked as Jack turned to her. "You think so, eh? Well, it all depends on what my goal is, don't you agree?" He grinned at her cheerfully. She'd done a decent job on his buttons.

She shrugged. "I suppose you intend to sail against my brother's holdings, using the _Catalina_ for a decoy."

Jack gave her a sidelong glance. "Fairly clever, aren't you, love? Let me ask you, Miss O'Shea…" he tilted his head toward the _Catalina._ "Do you see any of my crew on deck there? No. That is because we are not taking the ship. We are, in fact, sending her home all safe and sound, with a message for your brother." A smile spread across his face as he noted her puzzled expression.

"You'd be enough of a prize yourself, love. Ransom can be a very lucrative business." _Ransom! Dear God, she was doomed._ "But as it happens, I don't need your brother's gold either, though I'd happily pinch it if it were left layin' around."

Fear made her reckless. "Then what the hell DO you want?" she shouted in his face.

"I want your brother. And you're the way I'm going to get him." Jack's voice was cold as ice, and she shakily sat herself down as the crew hustled off to their stations. "Captain Patchell is even now getting underway with a message, demanding that your brother come in person to Buff Bay to ransom you. He is to bring but one ship, or your life is forfeit." The gleam of gold illuminated Jack's grim smile. "And when he shows up, I'm going to kill him."

Caitlyn felt oddly peaceful now. "Look, I don't know why you hate him so much, but there's a long line of men wanting to kill him," she sighed, "which I'm sure is no surprise to you. You'd save yourself a good bit of trouble if you chucked me overboard this instant." She rose and went to the rail, gazing out over the ocean swells.

Jack's confident demeanor dissolved ever so slightly. "What are you saying to me, love? Sir Robert O'Shea is too much of a coward to rescue his own sister?"

She looked up at him bleakly, her eyes reflecting the blue of the Caribbean sea. "I'm saying, that Sir Robert might possibly _reward_ you for dispatching me from the land of the living. He is, shall we say, not a very good brother."

Jack controlled himself with an effort. "You'll excuse me if I don't believe you right off, love. I expect even a devil like him feels some responsibility for you, therefore I'll carry on with my plans. But perhaps you'd be so kind as to tell me why you think he'd leave you to a band of bloody pirates." A freshening wind whipped his hair as the _Pearl _picked up speed.

She almost smiled; men could be very dense indeed. "You surprise me, Captain Sparrow. You've met Robert, and believe him to be a complete bastard. I lived with him, and I know him to be even worse than you think. And there is nothing a man hates more than someone who knows what he really is."

---------------------------------

Kidder set the used dinner plates beside the scullery sink, then opened the back door to the butcher. "Kind of you to deliver personally, Tom. Just set that ham on the work table there, if you would." He hoped Tom would be in too much of a hurry to bend his ear with the usual gossip. He was doomed to disappointment.

"Aye, Mr. Kidder, it's a busy life and no mistake. But it has its compensations. I gets around, I does, and I see some interestin' things." Tom wiped his enormous, greasy hands on his apron, and winked. "You'd never believe who I saw when I was deliverin' a side of beef to the Pig's Eye Pub."

Kidder's lips set in a straight line. "The devil himself, I shouldn't wonder, considering the neighborhood."

Tom laughed loudly. "Old Scratch was tendin' bar, near as I could tell. Nay, it was that high an' mighty Navy man what's been courting Miss Sarah." He leaned one beefy elbow on the sink's edge, obviously enjoying his possession of valuable knowledge.

"You are surely mistaken, Tom. The Captain's a gentleman of upright character and habits, not given to drink." Kidder reflected. "He even turned down the Commodore's fine port at supper."

"No mistake. I stop at the barracks near every day and I'd know him anywhere, even with them old clothes he was wearin'. And he weren't turning nothin' down that I could see. Put away two or three beers while I was waiting to get paid, and fer some reason the barmaid gave him a bag of somethin' as well."

"Be that as it may, I have no time for idle gossip. What Captain Gillette does in his spare time is the Commodore's concern, not mine."

Tom took that for what it was, dismissal and a strong hint to be on his way. "Mark my words, Mr. Kidder, something's goin' on there that's not on the up and up. Miss Norrington might want to be careful." Kidder made a mental note to clean the back doorknob as Tom's huge hand grasped it. "The Captain's said to be on his way to the poorhouse with 'is gambling. Push comes to shove, I don't expect the Commodore to be happy with a match like that one."

Kidder grimaced as the door slammed. Lord above, tradesmen could be as gossipy as maiden ladies when it came to their betters. He whirled as someone quietly cleared their throat behind him.

Sarah Norrington leaned against the doorframe in a most unladylike stance, one eyebrow raised in what he recognized as her brother's characteristic expression. Her voice was quiet, but firm. "Mr. Kidder? I believe you have something to tell me."

Ten

Norrington's boots thudded loudly as he strode down the dock. "This time, Gillette, we _will_ take one alive, and get some information out of him. Do whatever you must."

Gillette shivered unnoticeably. "Yes sir! With all the men we've ordered to sail, I am certain we can put a stop to this." _Or my career is finished before it really starts._

A muscle bulged along Norrington's jaw. "The _Cornwall _and_ Hercules_ will approach from the west; the _Dauntless_ from the east. We'll catch them in a vise somewhere between Port Maria and Port Antonio. Use every caution, but do NOT kill them all. Is that clear?"

Gillette's back was stiff as iron. "Yes, sir, very clear." He saluted as they parted to take command, each of their own ship. The tide was with them as they cast off, and a brisk and rising wind filled their sails.

---------------------------------

Mr. Gibbs had drained his flask already, and it was only noon. This little excursion of Jack's had the whole crew disoriented; only their captain's confidence and personal charisma had kept them from grumbling. As he guided the _Pearl_ past Port Antonio, Gibbs reflected that it was only to be expected, when you'd got a woman on board.

She never stopped talking, either. Right now she was trailing after the captain as he scanned the shoreline. "Captain Sparrow, I don't think you've been listening to me. My brother is _not coming_. He never leaves his fortress. He will most likely not send a ship at all." Her voice rose as Jack ignored her. "You're wasting your time, you bloody pirate!"

Jack snapped his spyglass shut. "Privateer, love. I've got me letter of marque, all nicely decorated with the King's seal." He smirked shamelessly.

"And you're attempting to kill a British subject? I can't think his Majesty will be all that thrilled to hear of it." Caitlyn irritably smoothed her hair back and re-tied the sash that held it in place. She had scrounged some breeches and a comfortable shirt from a cupboard in her tiny cabin, and was now strolling the decks barefoot, in spite of the shocked stares of the crew.

"Tell me, Miss O'Shea, you're what – twenty-five or six?"

"Six. And I fail to see what on earth that has to do with our discussion."

Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Twenty-six and not married. Wonder why that is? It couldn't be due to your habit of hounding every man within earshot to his death, could it?" Her mouth fell open; a choked "oh!" was all that came out.

"I see I've rendered you speechless; I'll take advantage of that." Jack's eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze fully to her. "Your brother usually sails under Spanish colors, therefore I am at liberty to attack his ships whenever and wherever I choose. But even if that were not the case, I would follow the exact course I'm on right now." He checked the tension in the rigging, then glanced aloft to the crow's nest. "Ahoy Mr. Cotton! Any sign of our prey?" The mute man shook his head and indicated by hand signals that no ship had been spied.

Caitlyn's pride had been stung, and she soon regained her power of speech. "Captain Sparrow, I know I'm not one of your pinky-lifting English ladies, but I assure you I would have been married and perhaps a mother by now despite my flaws… if it hadn't been for Robert." She laughed bitterly. "Two men have asked me to be their wife; by a remarkable coincidence, they both met untimely deaths a few days later. I seriously doubt that anyone else will come courting." Jack merely watched her, his dark eyes thoughtful.

She leaned on the rail and watched the nearing shoreline. "You may see Robert as some powerful warlord with hundreds of valiant allies. Couldn't be further from the truth. His men loathe him. He's had three attempts on his life, all from someone he trusted. He has no human feelings, no morals, not even a healthy fear of the Almighty to reign in his behavior. You may draw your own conclusions as to whether he'd give a brass farthing that his only living relative has been kidnapped." She raised her glance to his, her mouth drawn in a tight line.

Jack joined her at the rail; he seemed to be looking deep into the waves, right to the heart of the earth. When he spoke his voice was gravelly with emotion. "I met your brother years ago in Morocco. You would have been about eight. He was a ship's captain then, just starting out in his career as a slaver. I had just finished a stint as first mate and was enjoying myself in Tangier."

A school of fish just beneath the surface of the waves was set upon by wheeling seabirds. "We had a disagreement. He didn't take it well. The next morning I woke up in the personal prison of a sheikh friend of his. A real garden spot it was, complete with a dead body rotting in the cell next to mine."

"Robert told me stories of Araby once when he was sotted," Caitlyn said softly. "I always hoped he was embroidering the truth to frighten me."

"If he described hell on earth, he was utterly accurate. I spent a _year_ there, Miss O'Shea. My only view of the blessed day was a three-inch hole in the wall. I could not hear the sea nor smell it, nor see the sky – or birds or –" he broke off, struggling to steady his voice.

Caitlyn reached out and laid her hand on his arm. "That's what he took from you, isn't it? Your freedom." And this time, it was Jack who was silent.

---------------------------------

The _Dauntless_ had hardly got underway when a shout came from the provost. "Commodore, we're being hailed, to port!"

Norrington strode to the port side and peered down at the murky water. "Good God, have they gone mad?" A tiny dinghy with a single tattered sail was skipping smartly alongside the huge warship. A grizzled and ancient sailor hunched over the tiller, and a woman – a _woman_ – half-stood in the bow, waving her arms. Norrington blinked, peered, and went white as salt.

Then orders erupted from him. "Mr. Brinkley, prepare to take on passengers! There is to be no change in our course." The provost stared for an instant, then ordered a line cast so the dinghy could tie up to them and be towed. A rope-and-wood ladder unfurled to the waterline. After a tense wait, a hatless and disheveled Sarah Norrington scrambled onto the deck.

Her astonished brother hustled her to his cabin before she could say a word. She assumed he was too angry to speak, but instead he hugged her tightly.

"James, I've got something important to tell you."

He drew back and looked at her. "I know. I was ready to kill you when I saw you alongside of us, then I realized that you would not have done it if it weren't an emergency."

"I overheard some tradesmen's talk that positively scared me witless. I'm sorry to tell you that you may have a traitor in the ranks."

Norrington stiffened. "This is a very serious accusation, Sarah. I cannot possibly bring charges without firm evidence." She was starting to shake from the excitement; he guided her to a seat. "Tell me everything."

Ten minutes later he was bloody furious. "I cannot believe that my sister – whom I have heretofore believed to be an intelligent if somewhat frivolous person – risked her safety and reputation to bring me an utterly unreliable mess of gossip, and about a person to whom I have entrusted both my life and a ship of the line!"

"James, I did what I thought best! You can't think that I would hear such things, and blithely let you go off to be stabbed in the back. What sort of person would I be to stay in my comfortable parlor while you risked being betrayed by one of your own officers?" The adrenaline of the adventure had worn off, and Sarah found herself teary and trembling. "And here I thought he liked me. He's obviously using me to disarm suspicion."

"I haven't time to even consider these accusations. Gillette has never given me reason to doubt his loyalty, none whatsoever. You will go ashore at once." His voice had grown very cold. Sarah rose, her expression solemn.

"Ridiculous it may be. But it would certainly explain why your information on the raids is always _wrong_!" She bit her lip. "Look, James, all I ask is that you watch your back, all right?"

He turned away from her, flinging open the cabin door. "Ho, Mr. Brinkley! Assist Miss Norrington to her boat and see that she returns –" Norrington swore, at length and with energetic enthusiasm, to a degree which drew admiring glances from his men. In the brief space of time since Sarah had come aboard, the sky had gone nearly black, and the wind had picked up to twenty knots.

The _Dauntless_ was nearly clear of the protection of the bay, and his experienced eye noted that the chop was stiff and growing worse. He saw with a feeling akin to desperation that the feckless owner of the dinghy had disengaged and was probably safely back home. If he put Sarah in one of the ship's lifeboats and had her rowed to shore in heavy seas, there was a distinct possibility that he would never again see her alive.

When Fate plays you for a fool, you might as well laugh with the rest. He turned to Sarah and gave her a grim smile. "Well, little sister, it seems you will be having a very interesting journey indeed."


	6. Chapters 11 & 12

Eleven

After a rough night's sail, the _Hercules _had had the misfortune to be grounded on a sandbar, but the _Cornwall_ reached Buff Bay at dawn in much calmer waters. The _Dauntless _was already at anchor, having had a shorter distance to travel. Gillette felt true panic then; he had been told that the raiders would land in the wee hours, setting themselves up for a dawn assault. But the latecomers could hardly miss seeing the King's Navy gathered for attack, and would certainly not venture within range of their guns.

His agonized confusion only increased when a rowboat bearing three sailors and Sarah Norrington approached and requested to board. This was turning into the worst day of his life. "Good God, Miss Norrington, what on earth were you doing aboard the _Dauntless_?" he shouted at her as she was helped onto the deck. Seeing the scornful look she gave him, he controlled himself as one of the sailors handed him written orders.

He scanned them quickly, then nodded to the sailor. "Convey to the Commodore that I understand, and shall of course follow his orders to the letter." He gave Sarah a grim smile. "We're ordered home, Miss Norrington. Your brother is very worried for your safety. Not that our prey is likely to show up now." She stared at him coldly.

His lip curled in frustration, then he began shouting orders. "Weigh anchor and set the mainsails! Put on all possible speed due west, Mr. Smith." Sailors echoed the orders and scurried to obey, as the rowboat began its journey back to the _Dauntless._

The _Cornwall_ had no sooner gotten underway than a shout came from the lookout. "Captain – Spanish barque sighted! Thirty guns at least, and a second ship sails to her starboard!"

Gillette bared his teeth. "Hold our course, Mr. Smith."

Sarah's gaze had turned openly hostile. "The _Dauntless _is outgunned, Captain, surely even you can see that. If there's a battle they will need your help."

Gillette turned on her; she saw the wild look in his eyes, but she didn't care. "Miss Norrington, you will go below this instant, or I will have you _taken _below like a barrel of grog, is that clear?"

She grimaced right back at him. "I think you and I should have a bit of a chat in your cabin," she hissed, then lowered her voice. "… _Traitor!_"

----------------------------------

Jack Sparrow had the helm as the _Pearl_ approached Buff Bay. He and Caitlyn had declared an unspoken truce; he did not confine her below, and she had ceased haranguing him about his course of action. Jack smirked just a little, seeing her sitting on a coil of rope and peering over the railing. She'd tied a bandanna around her strawberry curls, and with her bare feet and men's trousers could have been one of the pirate lasses of old.

Gibbs was the only disgruntled one, muttering on principle once or twice a day against having women on board. He stood now, spyglass to starboard, scanning for their target. "No sign of 'em yet, Captain!" They were near enough to shore where his glass could pick out individual huts scattered on the beaches, and the odd surf-fisherman. Then a whiff of something reached his nose, just as a faint boom sounded.

The entire crew registered that sound. Cannon fire. As they came around the promontory east of the bay, the battle hove into view. Caitlyn stared in dismay as the firing increased, and large puffs of smoke drifted across the water's surface. She turned to Jack, and was stunned to see him smiling.

"Well, Miss O'Shea, it seems you were partly right; your brother cares not a bloody damn if you live or die. He's sent two ships instead of one; must be thinking to blast us out of the water."

"I wouldn't put it past him at all, Captain." She sounded resigned.

Jack's smile grew positively wicked. "Ah, and what have we here? My old friend Norrington, it seems; at least it's his ship. Wonder how he got into the middle of this?" He gave her a wink. "Usually he sticks to pirate hunting. He doesn't care much for the likes of us."

Caitlyn sensed the tension coursing through the entire crew. "What now, Captain Sparrow? Chuck me overboard, I suppose, and then head for the high seas."

Jack gave her a sidelong look. "That's what I promised, isn't it? But I don't have to do anything I don't want to. What say we give your jackal of a brother a bit of a show for his money?" She was puzzled for only a moment.

"Mr. Gibbs! Order the guns readied. Put on all possible sail. Everyone to stations. I'm in the mood to blast the bejesus out of yon Spanish ships!"

Gibbs positively brightened at the thought of venturing into mortal peril; it beat dealing with Jack's bad mood for the last few days. They had little time before they came into firing range, and the crew spent every moment of it loading cannon and pistols, and tucking boarding axes and cutlasses into their belts.

Caitlyn felt like the calm eye of this storm of activity. But within her coursed a new fire, a new energy; her heart thrummed steadily as she realized that finally, everything was about to change.

"Captain Sparrow, I want to help. What can I do?" She raced to catch up with Jack as he stalked the deck.

Jack hesitated for only a moment. "Right. Can't say I'm surprised. See those swivel guns along the rail? Take your position at one of them and watch what the man next to you does. Then blast away." His smile was echoed by her own.

Twelve

Gillette yanked Sarah into his cabin and slammed the door, his face pale. "Miss Norrington, out of respect for your brother I will let you have your say for exactly one minute."

"That's all it will take, _Captain_. I know exactly what you've been doing. You've gotten yourself in debt, and then taken money to lie to my brother about the movements of his enemies. If you don't turn this ship around and join the battle, I will personally make sure you can never hold up your head again on British soil." Her eyes narrowed and her fists were clenched tightly.

"No one will believe you!"

"Oh, I think they will. And you can't take that chance, can you? Why not go ahead and fight? Perhaps that will prevent a court-martial, at any rate." Her skin was flushed with anger.

Gillette thought with a pang that he would probably never see her smile again. The thought hurt more than it should have. "Miss Norrington … Sarah. There isn't a damn thing I could have done about this whole mess, once I'd lost all my money gambling. You know how irrational your brother is about that sort of thing; he'd have had me cashiered."

"It's not irrational. Our father lost all the family's money gambling, and then drank himself to death. It nearly ruined James' career," she added heatedly, "and it certainly destroyed my mother's health."

He licked his lips. "Be that as it may, I've been ordered _by your brother_ to return you to Port Royal. If I disobey that order, he'll probably kill me with his bare hands. Which," he let out a huff of exhaustion, "might be a vast relief."

Desperate times, Sarah thought. "Relief or not, I am telling you for the last time, you _will_ order the ship to join battle," and to his astonishment she drew a pistol from beneath her shawl and pointed it directly at his head. "Because you have absolutely nothing to lose."

Gillette felt a wave of serenity wash over him. "I see. Well then, let's get to it." He flung the cabin door open and bowed, then strode onto the deck.

Sarah hurried behind him, pistol hidden once again, as he shouted orders. "Mr. Smith, come about immediately! We will engage the enemy at once. Mr. Talbot, make ready the guns. We'll flank the smaller ship and draw her fire."

The _Cornwall_ groaned with the strain as the helmsman turned the wheel hard to starboard. Sarah nearly lost her balance, and struggled to steady her hand on the pistol without letting the crew know what she held. If they knew, they would disarm her, and then who would help James?

Gillette seemed to read her thought. "Rest assured, Miss Norrington, that I shall keep my word. Save your shot for the enemy. Your brother will need every ounce of help he can get." His words and tone were firm and calm, and Sarah felt the muscles in her arm suddenly melt from the strain. She hastily tucked the pistol into her waistband, and shook her hands to loosen them.

"Captain, there's another ship! It's firing on the enemy!" The lookout's voice sounded confused.

Gillette glanced to the helmsman, then laughed; he couldn't help it. "The more the merrier, eh Smithy? Well then, men – for God and country!" They sailed into the wind, and into the fires of hell.

---------------------------------------------------

The _Magdalena_ was caught in a vise between the _Dauntless_ and the _Pearl_, and Juan Gallardo was livid. If he survived this ambush, he would be going for the head of the bastard who'd sent him into it. A second broadside from the _Dauntless_ destroyed his foresail and its rigging.

He gave command of the _Magdalena_ to his first mate, then took one of the dangling ropes and swung over the prow and onto the quarterdeck of the 12-gun _Toro_. She was less pressed, having just come about to receive the approaching _Cornwall. _Gallardo landed lightly on the deck and immediately took the helm, angling the _Toro_ for a broadside against her attacker. "We will grapple and board the instant she comes within range!"

Jack Sparrow stood atop his own forecastle deck, shouting commands as the _Pearl's_ guns pounded the _Magdalena._ A hot battle in quarters this close was a tricky thing, and they had to mind that their cannon did not overshoot the enemy and hit the _Dauntless_ on the far side. The three ships were ranged side by side, so close that ramps might almost have been laid from one to the other.

Caitlyn O'Shea had a natural talent for blowing things up, it seemed. Her swivel gun first shattered the door of the aft cabin, then a second round blew through helm and helmsman alike. She paled at that, but reloaded swiftly. She was firing partridge shot, and it was having a devastating effect, scattering into deadly shrapnel that tore apart whatever it struck.

The overanxious crew of the _Toro_ let their broadside off a minute too soon, all but one shot falling short of its target. The _Cornwall _passed before her prow and blasted off the forestaysails, but the mast and hull remained untouched. _Toro_ followed her and drew alongside, her crew screaming insults as they let off a broadside to starboard. This shook the _Cornwall_ to her keel, part of the main deck itself being shot through, and three men dead where they stood.

It was impossible, Sarah thought; this brilliant, sunny day couldn't be marred by the smell of gunpowder and burning and blood. She stood at the rail as the battle raged around her, pistol clasped in her hand, but she hadn't been able to fire; her fingers seemed riveted in place.

The _Toro_'s crew used their momentary advantage, and flung grappling hooks over the _Cornwall_'s railing, pulling the two ships together by main strength till they were able to board. Gillette raced to Sarah's side, hat gone and blood streaming from his head. "Miss Norrington, we must get you to shore!" She looked over his shoulder; a man was climbing over the rail. She raised her pistol, and fired just past Gillette's ear. The Spaniard yelled, and fell into the water between the ships.

Gillette didn't even blink, simply grabbed her and hauled her to the far side, where a sailor waited in a rowboat to take Sarah off the ship. Shakily she climbed in, as the enemy began swarming the deck. A man with an axe in one hand and pistol in the other rushed at them.

Gillette turned and stood guarding her, a bellow of rage issuing from his throat**. _"Get her to safety!"_** The attacker fired point blank. Gillette fell backwards into the boat, and it rappelled far too quickly to the water's surface, landing with a jar that rattled their teeth.

Sarah sucked in a breath and glared at the stunned sailor. "Row, man, or we'll all die yet!" He shook himself and grasped the oars. Sarah tugged Gillette's arm till he was settled, grimacing at the blood beginning to soak through his jacket; he was unconscious. "Oh God, so stupid…" she whispered. Then she grasped the second set of oars, and they pulled for shore.


	7. Chapters 13 & 14

Thirteen

The barrage from the _Dauntless _and _Pearl_ had taken its toll, and the _Magdalena_ surrendered perforce. Both masts were shot through, and she was already riding low in the water.

Jack turned his attention to the smaller ships. He had seen Gallardo board the _Cornwall_, and knew it was his last and best opportunity to find out how his plan for revenge had gone wrong. "Mr. Gibbs, run out the sweeps. Full ahead, all guns to ready!" Gibbs followed his captain's thought, and the _Pearl _lurched forward as Jack stood on the quarterdeck, his hair whipping around him, eyes fierce.

Gallardo already had the _Cornwall_ under sail and moving away, her former crew either slain or chucked unceremoniously into the water. "The opportune moment," Jack muttered, as the prow of the _Pearl_ rammed the smaller C_ornwall _ with all the speed she could gather. A hideous crunching splintering sound; the screams of men and the yells of the _Pearl's_ crew; ten feet off the prow of the smaller ship simply crumbled and fell to the water's surface.

Jack's men raked the deck with all the gunfire they could muster, knocking down nearly a dozen of the Spaniards before Jack himself led them in boarding. Gallardo met him with sword drawn.

Jack had his blade out in an instant. "I think your luck's run out, mate. Why don't we have a bit of a chat, eh?" He circled Gallardo as chaos roiled about them.

"_Vete al carajo_, English pig! I don't take commands from you," the Spaniard cried, then lunged, obviously hoping the surprise attack would catch Jack off guard. Jack merely sidestepped, and gave the other man a stinging slap with the side of his blade as he rushed past.

"Awfully confident, aren't you? Surely you realize you'll never get home in this ship," he added, smiling pleasantly and tilting his head toward the ruined prow.

Gallardo looked, then snarled and lunged again, this time using his blade more skillfully. Jack had to parry twice before he was able to leap out of the man's reach. The two captains slashed, feinted, and parried as if they were the only men on deck, Gallardo refusing to see that his crew had been subdued by Jack's more numerous men.

Finally Jack drew blood – a slash down the side of the Spaniard's linen shirtsleeve. "Come on, man! Is Robert O'Shea such a fine master that you're willing to die for him?" he shouted in frustration.

Jack's words finally brought home to Gallardo the truth of his situation. He dropped his sword, and sat down heavily, exhausted. "O'Shea is a dead man, if I have anything to do with it," he growled. His English was fairly good.

Jack stood above him, blade at the ready, as his crew shoved the survivors of Gallardo's men into the _Cornwall_'s hold. "I don't much care for the bastard, either," he replied, his lip curling beneath his mustache. "In fact, I've been tryin' to kill him for near twenty years. I thought I had him this time; but it looks like he's double-crossed us both."

"Ah, he's hated me for years. He knows I am a better leader than he can ever be." Gallardo took off his hat and wiped his face. "I thought something was funny when he sent me here. All he said was that one of his agents was meeting us here in an English ship. We have a number of those in the Navy who let us, eh, carry on business." He grinned dryly as he wrapped a rag around his arm. "So I sailed right into the bay like an innocent sheep to the wolves."

Jack didn't let down his guard for a moment. "He never told you I was to meet him here personally? That's very interesting." He would keep to himself the fact that O'Shea's sister was on board the _Pearl_. "So instead of coming himself, he sends you into a trap; figuring that between you, me and the Navy, most of us would end up dead or captured. I almost admire his cunning," he added.

Gallardo's eyes narrowed, sizing up Jack with the shrewdness born of dealing with rough men in dangerous places. "Suppose we make a deal, English? I can sail back to home port, and then I'll have a chance to kill O'Shea. And you and I will both be happy."

Jack looked skeptical. "They'll never let you dock."

"They will have to, or else he'll be admitting that he sent me into a trap." Gallardo smirked. "I'll get a hero's welcome, and then I'll cut his lying throat. I've been meaning to get around to it, anyway."

He'd do it without a second thought, Jack realized. Of course, he'd spent far more time with O'Shea than Jack had, and probably had that much more reason to hate his guts. "And what's in this for me, eh? The satisfaction of letting someone else do what I intended?"

"_Oye_, amigo. It's the results that matter, _verdad?_ But if I am successful, I will be your sworn compadre for life, on my honor." Gallardo added the last with a grin that said they both knew how much that honor was worth.

Jack burst out laughing. "Aye, well, y'never know when you're going to need a mate, eh? And I've got nothing to lose. If you fail, I'll try again. Do we have an accord?" He held out one battle-stained hand.

"Agreed." Gallardo shook it heartily. "Eh – I'll need my ship back."

Jack grew thoughtful. "Your flagship's shot below the waterline, I don't think she can be saved." In truth, even a landsman would have noticed how low in the water the _Magdalena_ was riding. "But your sloop's still seaworthy, I expect. There's just the little matter of dealing with the Navy. I think it's time I paid a visit to my friend Norrington." He indicated the _Dauntless_ with a tilt of his head.

Gallardo was visibly startled. "You know the Navy captain? But you are – I thought you merely saw an opportunity to take a prize."

"There's lots you don't know about me, mate. If you survive your next meeting with Sir Robert, perhaps we'll have the opportunity to sit and have a pint or two." Jack's jesting tone changed as he shouted, "Mr. Gibbs, signal the _Dauntless_ that the captain of the _Black Pearl_ intends to come aboard."

The smoke of battle had nearly cleared when the _Dauntless' _boatswain announced, "Captain Jack Sparrow!" as Jack sauntered aboard. He was met by Norrington, who stood rigidly with a stony expression.

"Commodore! So nice to see you again, and under much improved circumstances, from my standpoint at least. I've got a bit of business to discuss with you." He smiled cheerfully.

"Indeed, Captain Sparrow, I am astonished that you have the unmitigated gall to come aboard my ship. I doubt that we can have anything to discuss."

Jack grinned and threw his arm around Norrington's shoulders in a familiar way as they walked the deck. "Now, now, let's not let old business get in the way of what we want to accomplish. A little bird tells me that you Navy types have been repeatedly played the fool by coastal raiders. I think I know who's behind it, and on yonder vessel," he indicated the _Toro_, "sits the man who can punish the guilty party."

"Indeed? And why should I take the word of a pirate?" Norrington's eyes narrowed. He had urgent tasks – he needed to make sure Sarah was safe, for God's sake, and here this sea rover was frittering valuable time away.

"Ah, ah! _Privateer_, mate, all right and proper. The King likes me, he does." Jack smiled happily. "If you really want the raids to stop, and who doesn't, why then all you need do is allow that ship to return to its home port. I have it on the best authority that once it does, the man behind all this will be meeting his Maker a great deal sooner than he planned."

Norrington sighed. He was tired, and worried. It was a risk taking Jack's word and he knew it; but he just didn't have the energy to care. "Captain Sparrow, you're a clever man. If you think letting that ship go will accomplish his Majesty's aims of keeping his lands safe, then by all means, I shall authorize her release." Who knew, maybe something could be salvaged from this fiasco.

"Well done, Commodore!" Jack beamed. "I'll get things underway. Feel free to send a few shots after her, for appearance's sake; long as they miss, aye?" And with that he was off, leaving Norrington with the feeling that time and space and all things rational had been summarily swept aside by the strange luck that surrounded Jack Sparrow.

Fourteen

"But Captain Sparrow, I can't just sail the seas with you forever. I've got a life to get back to!" Caitlyn was coldly furious, racing after Jack as he ordered his crew to get underway.

Jack deftly hauled in the foretopsail and tied it off. "And why not, Miss O'Shea? It's not as if you had such a carefree existence under your brother's protection. And you seem to be quite good at what we do, like you were born to it." He gave her a cocky grin. "Handled that swivel gun like a professional."

"I ought to put a bullet in you, you scallywag! After all you've put me through, after I fought on your side – why can't you listen to reason?" Her voice rose in frustration.

Jack stopped in his tracks and faced her. "You're still valuable to me, love. I might very well still need you for leverage, if yon Captain Gallardo doesn't manage to slit your brother's throat as promised."

"You bloody pirate!" she shouted, then broke and ran for the rail. Before Jack could take more than a single step, she dived over the side. Jack and Gibbs watched as she surfaced, and then stroked evenly through the wavelets for shore.

Jack turned back to see his entire crew staring at him. "Every man jack to his stations!" he growled fiercely. "Mr. Gibbs, make for Tortuga. We'll need repairs and supplies before we sail again."

"But Captain, what about Miss O'Shea? Y'can't just leave her there!" Gibbs protested. Women on board ships were one thing; women ashore were quite another. You couldn't just let a woman fend for herself like that.

"Ah, but I can. She's cut her own line, Mr. Gibbs, and now she must make do with it. Let the Navy save her if they've a mind to do so." Gibbs wisely held his noise; no telling what the captain might take a notion to do, considering how his plans had all gone south.

-

The sailor had pulled the rowboat up out of the surf, and Sarah worked to position Gillette more comfortably, leaning his head and shoulders against her own skirts to keep the breeze off him. He groaned and his eyes came halfway open. She thanked God that the morning was turning to a fair day.

Two rowboats put off from the _Dauntless_ and approached the shore. Fighting against exhaustion, Sarah squinted into the sun's glare; she was almost certain her brother was in the prow of one of them. She held her shawl to Gillette's chest wound. It did virtually no good, a huge stain spreading across it in minutes, but she didn't know what else to do.

She looked up as Norrington and his men raced across the sands towards them. "He took a direct blast, to protect me," she said quietly.

Norrington knelt by the mortally wounded captain. Gillette tried to speak, but only coughed; Norrington shook his head. "Keep quiet, man. The surgeon is on his way. We'll have you shipshape in no time." He knew it was a lie when he said it.

Gillette disobeyed that order, turning his head to look at Sarah. "Miss Norrington, on my honor," he coughed again. "I never intended to hurt you."

"Captain, you _must_ be silent now," Sarah insisted; but he'd gone unconscious again.

The surgeon came puffing across the sands, and quickly checked Gillette's pulse. "Hmm, not good. I can make an attempt, sir," he added, turning to Norrington, "but judging by the blood, I'll mainly cause him more pain, and it won't do a bit of good." They talked in low voices, Norrington becoming more agitated until finally he grabbed the surgeon's jacket-front and shouted, "You will fix him right NOW!"

Sarah spoke up then. "Oh for heaven's sake, do hold your noise." She tilted her head to Gillette's still form; he had ceased to breathe. The surgeon checked the pulse again, and shook his head.

Norrington looked at his sister with new respect, as he and his men removed their hats. She was pale, but calm. She seemed to have gone from girl to woman in the space of a day.

"James, what I told you about Gillette was all true," she said softly.

He was shocked right down to his bones. He tried unsuccessfully to speak; then his mouth set in a determined line. One good action, he suddenly felt, _was_ enough to redeem a man of any number of evil deeds. "He will of course be buried with full honors, as is fitting for a hero of the King's Navy."

Sarah felt a wave of pride at the words; watching her brother's face, she saw deep regret for what might have been, and perhaps a new understanding of human frailty.

Norrington shuddered slightly. His poor sister, with a man's lifeblood on her skirts and his cold form in her lap! "Let me take him, Sarah." He bent down to lift the still form.

"No, James, let him be. It's the least I can do." He nodded silently.

"Commodore, someone else has come ashore!" One of his men pointed east along the shoreline, where a figure could be seen walking unsteadily across the sand.

"Mr. Morris, take two men and go bring that person to us. Under duress, if need be." Morris nodded and took off at a jog. The figure hesitated, took a few more steps, then sank to its knees.

Norrington rubbed his eyes tiredly as the heat increased. "Sarah, Gillette has no family that I know of here in the Indies. We will have to see to it that he receives due respect and a proper burial. Can you manage it?"

"Of course, James," she answered quietly, then looked up and gave a surprised gasp.

Norrington turned as Morris arrived with his captive. "Dear God in heaven, the whole world's gone mad. Am I to understand, Mr. Morris, that this, er, lady was on one of the combatant ships?"

"So it would seem, sir. She don't talk much."

Caitlyn O'Shea was held upright largely by the strength of the two sturdy sailors on either side of her, gripping her arms. Her hair had sprung out in wild auburn curls that barely reached her shoulders, and her ragged sailor's garb was stiff with drying sea-water.

Norrington thought she looked like a wild sea-nymph, captured perhaps by some magic spell and brought to shore to dwell with mortals. He could only imagine how she felt about being manhandled in such a way. "You may release her."

She finally spoke, her voice faint. "I need water, please." She licked her dry lips. "I'm so tired." With that, she dropped like a stone between the two distracted sailors, and fell flat on her face in the sand.

Norrington sighed, and knelt to pick her up, brushing the sand from her face; she was unconscious. "The lady will return to the _Dauntless_ in my boat. Mr. Morris, you will escort Miss Norrington and Captain Gillette. And let us all mind our tongues until I can determine the full truth behind these things."

They returned to the ship in silence.


	8. Chapters 15 & 16

Fifteen

The rowboat carrying Sarah, Morris, and the body of Edmund Gillette was hoisted to the deck of the _Dauntless_ by four silent sailors. Next followed Norrington and Caitlyn, who had become conscious, though dazed. Once aboard, Norrington wasted no time in ordering Gillette's body to be laid out with whatever honors could be managed under the circumstances, and detailing a guard. Most of the crew of the badly damaged _Cornwall_ had been fished out of the ocean and brought aboard to be examined by the surgeon.

"Mr. Morris, see to it that wash water, food and drink are taken to my cabin, and plenty of it. The ladies will be quartered there for the return voyage. And send the carpenter over to the _Cornwall_ to see if she can be patched well enough to sail home."

As soon as the cabin had been made ready, he personally escorted his sister there, along with the woman he'd come to think of as the sea-nymph. He settled Caitlyn onto one of the bunks and held a cup of cold water to her lips. She drank thirstily and wanted more, but he shook his head. "Not just yet. If you sick it up you'll be worse off than before." She sighed and lay down just as she was; she was out in less than a minute. Her bare feet hung over the edge of the bunk, covered with sand; Norrington gently lifted them onto the coverlet.

He spoke very quietly to Sarah. "She'll be fine once she's had a rest and some food. I've no idea how she got aboard the enemy's ship. Fortunately it won't take us long to get back to Port Royal, as I think you should both be seen by the physician."

He noticed that his sister had begun to shake ever so slightly, and frowned. "There ought to be some spare clothing in the cupboard there, Sarah. You might as well shove your things right out the window, I'm afraid they're beyond salvaging. Here's washing-up water as well." He was unsure what else to say; he was used to dealing with military men, not civilians covered with the blood of battle. He poured the warm water from its bucket into a basin and set a fresh towel beside it.

Sarah simply nodded, her hands working at the laces of her gown. "Thank goodness this is fastened in front. I can see you haven't had the forethought to bring a ladies' maid!" She stifled a hysterical giggle.

Norrington cleared his throat, looked at her anxiously, then stepped outside and shut the door. "Look sharp there, men! Set sail for home and be quick about it, I want us docking by sunset!" Shouting orders always made him feel better, more in control.

Sarah washed up as best she could manage, and ended up pulling on a pair of buff breeches and an ordinary white shirt, topped by a brown frock coat that had seen better days. She couldn't imagine how civilian clothes had gotten onto the ship, but she was glad not to have to don Navy togs; she stifled a shudder at the flashing memory of the blood on Gillette's coat. She managed to eat a bite of cheese and bread and drink a few swallows of wine before exhaustion claimed her.

-

The _Dauntless_ made good time on the return sail. Caitlyn awoke after a three-hour sleep, and opened her eyes to see Sarah trying to jam her stained gown through the window. "Good Lord, what are you doing? That gown must've cost a pretty penny!" Caitlyn exclaimed, then nearly laughed at the incongruity of such a statement, considering the situation.

Sarah whirled around, the dress half in and half out of the cabin. "It's got blood on it. And what do you care?" Her gaze flicked over Caitlyn's ragged and filthy attire. "Who _are_ you anyway? My brother said you were aboard one of the enemy ships."

"Not by my own choice, I assure you. I was kidnapped off my brother's ship by that privateer captain, Jack Sparrow." An odd sequence of expressions passed across her face. "He was going to, er, ransom me to my brother." That little fib didn't bother her at all. "My name's Caitlyn O'Shea. I was on my way to my cousin in London."

Sarah came and sat beside her on the bunk. "Sarah Norrington. My brother is the commander of these ships. He brought you back from the beach when you fainted; do you remember any of that?"

Caitlyn scratched at one sandy leg. "Very little; just someone bending over me with a red coat on. But I do recall the man that brought me to this cabin – quite a nice-looking bloke I must say. Good Lord, I need a wash."

Sarah giggled. "_James_? I'd say you had sunstroke, but it's probably just my point of view. He certainly seems interested in you," she added, recalling her brother's attention to making Caitlyn safe and comfortable. She rose and stuck her head out the cabin door to ask Mr. Morris for more warm water, then turned back. "I don't suppose you are secretly a duchess or some such, with a small fortune to your name and that sort of thing? I'm trying to marry him off, you see."

Caitlyn laughed out loud at that, and stood up, wincing as pain from her scraped-up feet hit her. "He'd be more likely to marry your ladies' maid. I'm a nobody, really; no family that counts, no money." A sailor brought another large bucket of water in, then touched his cap and exited.

"Hmm, no family or money. That _is_ a problem, but I suppose we can manage. We may have to just not tell him what he doesn't ask about, and let nature take its course. He was all puppy-dog-eyed when you passed out on the bunk. I've never seen him look at a woman that way." Sarah nodded decidedly. "He won't care two figs where you're from once he's in love with you."

Caitlyn gratefully shucked off the disgusting breeches and shirt she wore, and sat on a stool in her knickers, rinsing the dirt and sand and seawater from herself with happy sighs. "Castles in the air. You don't really think a Navy officer would even consider a girl with hands like these?" She held out her palms; they were well-calloused from hard work. "But I hope you and I can be friends. I think I'm going to need one."

"I'd like that. And I'll do what I can to get you home again." Sarah smiled.

A shudder went through Caitlyn at her words. "Home used to be my brother's island; but if you're a real friend, you'll help me to _never go there again_."

Sixteen 

Jack Sparrow squinted into the brilliant sunlight as the _Pearl_ docked in Tortuga. The crew's usual chitchat had reached a fever pitch, most of them looking forward to several days of carousing and, with any luck, a good fistfight or six. It couldn't help but provoke a bit of grumbling when their captain called them to order just before they disembarked.

"Gentlemen, you've done well, and earned a bit of a rest or a bit of fun as may be." Jack strode the quarterdeck, the buttons on his frock-coat shining in the sun. "But I've need of you still, and thus I must impose on your good natures. We will dock only until _tomorrow sunset_." Groans of dismay rose from the crew, and Jack winced slightly. "I've got unfinished business with Sir Robert O'Shea, and I intend to see it through to the end. Tomorrow we sail to Santiago Island with the tide!"

The men's surprised looks changed to loud, excited speculation. They'd all heard stories about Santiago and its rumored hoards of gold, and they all knew that their commander "owed one" to O'Shea; they didn't much care why. "Eh, Captain, we'll take their stronghold and their plunder, and send the Spaniards runnin' into the swamps!"

Jack smiled; he had them. "Right you are, mate. So go your way and have your fun; but I want every man-jack of you back on board and ready to work tomorrow morning, or there'll be no rum ration for the rest of the journey." He gave his best stern look to them all, and was gratified to see them nod, eyes wide. Sailing any distance at all without rum was unthinkable.

All the men except for the watch disembarked as fast as they could get over the rail, and soon the town rang with the shouts of excited sailors and the happy ring of coin being exchanged for those things dear to a pirate's heart. Jack shook his head as they scattered, then turned back to see Gibbs standing by his side with a puzzled look.

"Captain, what's all this about goin' back to Santiago? I thought Captain Gallardo was goin' to do our dirty work for us, eh?"

"Tell me something, Gibbs. If you were me, would you trust Gallardo to keep his word when it means risking his life?"

"Good God, no. The man's a scoundrel, though I 'spect the ladies find him charming."

"Right you are. And make no mistake, getting O'Shea is very important to me; so I'll risk no failures. If we sail tomorrow, we should arrive at Santiago a day or two after Gallardo does. By then we'll know if he's been successful or not at sending O'Shea to his maker. And if not, we'll lend a hand. Savvy?" Jack grinned wickedly.

"Aye, Captain! Well then, I'd best be goin' ashore. There's a little gal on Two Street that I'm wanting to check up on." Gibbs straightened his shabby neckerchief and smoothed back his hair.

"Be off with you, then. Mind you have your sorry arse back here by dawn, and sober as well. I meant what I said about the rum ration."

"Captain, you should know me better'n that by now. When it comes to my rum," Gibbs clapped a closed fist to his heart, as if pledging allegiance, "_I take no chances._"

-

The _Dauntless_ docked in Port Royal as the last reddened rays of the setting sun gleamed over the coastline. Norrington viewed the town with satisfaction; he had rarely been gladder to arrive home.

His sister and Miss O'Shea had become fast friends. This troubled him slightly, as they really knew nothing about Caitlyn but what she had told them herself; but he had to admit that she was well-spoken and bright. He mused for a moment on how the sunset matched her curls; then shook himself, appalled at his unruly train of thought.

As the shouts of the crew rang across the deck, Sarah emerged from his cabin, still dressed in her commoner's clothing. Caitlyn followed, dressed similarly; he was relieved that she had changed out of the rags they'd found her in.

"Good evening, Sarah, Miss O'Shea." Norrington greeted them formally, mindful as always of the proprieties. "I will be disembarking shortly, and will send a man to the house to fetch suitable attire for you both. You of course cannot think of going ashore as you are." He gave his sister the raised-eyebrow look that meant, "I know you _were_ thinking of it, but you can forget the notion entirely."

To his surprise, Sarah didn't bother to protest or even pout. "Very well, James, if you insist. We shall try to stay out of the way." Caitlyn grinned and led the way to a pile of crates, where they both took a seat. He considered ordering them back to the cabin, but wisely decided not to press for total capitulation. This new maturity of Sarah's was very welcome; no point in ruining it with excessive strictness.

The ramp was laid for disembarking, and Norrington was the first to do so, where he was met immediately by Kidder. "Begging your pardon, sir, I took the liberty to hire a carriage for the day, having heard of Miss Norrington's, ah, adventure. I felt she might not be up to walking home."

Norrington nodded; Kidder had probably had a little chat with the worthless tar that had brought Sarah to the _Dauntless_ the day before. "Good man. First, I need you to return home and fetch two of Miss Norrington's gowns and two pairs of slippers; don't worry about hats. Don't look at me that way, Kidder, she is quite all right. Her gown just had a mishap is all, and I will not have my sister appearing before the town in a state."

Kidder returned within the hour, bearing a trunk which he struggled to carry up onto the deck. He looked about nervously, not being used to being on board a ship instead of solid land. "I did my best, sir, but God knows I'd rather face pirates than venture again into a lady's wardrobe!" He stifled a shudder.

"My abject apologies, Kidder. I hope with all my heart that I shall never need to ask such a thing of you again. Mr. Smith!"

"Aye, sir."

"Convey this trunk to my cabin at once." The sailor easily lifted the trunk and hustled off, knocking peremptorily before entering the cabin he knew to be empty.

"Now, Kidder, please return to the carriage and inform the driver that his passengers should be appearing shortly. You will of course escort them home. I have a great deal to do here and will sleep aboard."

"Passengers, sir? More than one?" The poor man had reached a state of utter confusion.

"That's correct. We have managed to fish a little mermaid out of the sea, and Sarah wishes to keep her." It really wouldn't do to push the man any further, Norrington decided. He turned and strode off, finding Sarah and Caitlyn still sitting on the crates, swinging their feet and watching the goings-on with interest.

"My ladies, your wardrobe awaits." He smirked slightly and bowed, gesturing to his cabin. The stress of the last twenty-four hours was definitely making him a little punchy. "Kidder is waiting with a carriage, when you are ready."

"Shortly" turned out to be nearly an hour, but finally the two ladies reappeared, looking tolerably respectable if not dashing. Sarah's slippers were too big on Caitlyn, and she had to step carefully as they disembarked. Kidder helped them both into the carriage, his eyes nearly popping from his head at the sight of Caitlyn's wild curls. "I should have brought her a hat," he muttered.

Norrington turned back to his ship as the carriage rolled off. No avoiding it now; it was time to pay the piper. His mission had suffered considerable loss of life and damage to vessels. He'd taken a grave risk in trusting Sparrow's word about the raiders. And he'd managed to burden himself with a young, attractive stranger who had divulged virtually nothing about herself.

He would spend tomorrow in conference with Geoffrey Bainbridge, but tonight he must prepare his report. Just for a moment, he wished he were a blacksmith.


	9. Chapters 17 & 18

Seventeen

As it happened, Governor Swann had been quite wrong about Will becoming bored after two weeks in the country. He didn't even last a week.

The incessant rain hadn't helped; Will strode the halls of the manor house like a caged tiger. "As far as I'm concerned, the sooner we leave for Port Royal, the better!" Will stopped in his pacing and turned to take Elizabeth in his arms. "I hope you haven't changed your mind, love."

"Not at all," she smiled back at him. "I'm already half packed. I can be ready to return to London tomorrow if you like."

"You're wonderful." He held her close, caressing her cheek with his palm before kissing her tenderly. "Once we've talked with your father about what he wants done with the plantation, we'll set sail at once. I can't wait to be busy again."

Elizabeth stifled a giggle. "Oh, I don't know, you've been pretty busy this week." She poked him playfully and he grinned, then kissed her again. "Now stop that, or we'll never get packed."

-

Cotton scowled eloquently as his captain pointed toward the dinghy. "Sorry to ask it of you, mate, but it's got to be done. Gibbs has got some lovely fish for you to market at O'Shea's little dock." Jack grinned at Cotton's expression. "Be sure and keep those sharp ears and eyes open. I want to know what you can find out about Gallardo's homecoming."

Cotton's parrot let out a screech. "Blow the man down!"

Jack nodded. "Very true, but if the worst should happen we'll give you a fine funeral, eh? Now off you go."

Thus it was that Cotton set the tiny boat's sail for Santiago Island. It was a fair day with a brisk wind, and since the _Pearl_ had dropped anchor well offshore and to windward of Cotton's destination, the skiff soon reached the sturdy piers at the base of Sir Robert O'Shea's island fortress.

Santiago Island itself offered little in the way of fresh water, pasturage or croplands, so nearly all of the provisions for O'Shea's private army had to be brought in. Nearby islanders had long ago realized that there was ready money to be had for any fresh foods and liquor they might bring to the island, if they looked sharp and made sure to go armed.

Cotton had barely tied up his boat when a huge foul-mouthed stevedore strode to meet him, his aggressive stance blocking out the brilliant sun. Cotton squinted up at him, then gestured silently to the fish in their wicker basket.

The stevedore grunted. "Oi, look'ere, it's the deef-and-dumb feller again, back wif more fish." Two other evil-looking layabouts sauntered over, grinning. "Nah then, we'll give you a shilling a fish, and don't try to be _talking_ us higher!" The huge man roared at his own pathetic joke, and the other two joined in raucously.

Cotton's expression never changed a whit. It was funny how, when you couldn't speak, people assumed you couldn't hear either. Funny, and a distinct advantage. He simply lifted the first basket of fish onto the dock, then the second, and climbed out of the boat himself, sitting on a barrel as the stevedore stomped off to fetch the coins.

Being a cautious sort of man, Cotton ostentatiously drew a long knife from his belt and speared a thick slice of meat from his provisions basket, then wedged the meat between two hunks of bread. He jammed the knife's point into the waterlogged side of the barrel he sat on; the blade gleamed dully in the sunshine. It never hurt to let it be known that you knew what was what.

One of the two docksmen leaned against the wall of a shack, and picked his teeth with his knife. The other, a malodorous fellow with one eye missing, lit a pipe. After several puffs of the evil-smelling smoke, he commented, "eh, Bert, we'll be needin' the extra food now that _Toro_'s come back. Too many bleedin' mouths to feed."

"Aight, and I'm not goin' ter bust me hump fetching grub. The master keeps me in rum and women, 'at's all I need." Bert sheathed his knife and cracked his knuckles luxuriously.

"Aye, but it mightn't last forever. The master's been actin' pretty funny if yer ask me, and Gallardo's got blood in 'is eye or I'm a barnacle. I think it's more than just him losing the _Magdalena_, too." He didn't even bother to lower his voice. "And there's some in the fortress wot been whining about Himself cuttin' our wages."

Bert hacked, then spat a few inches from where Cotton sat. "T'ell wiv that, they dun know when they're well off. Plenty o' sods out there go raidin' and bring home nuffin." Cotton idly took a bite out of the huge sandwich, and looked out to sea as he chewed slowly.

One-Eye spat as well, going for distance; Bert grunted appreciatively. "That's as may be, mate, but you got ter admit, this last trip was buggered six ways to Wednesday. We ain't never 'ad a ship sink before. Maybe the master's lost 'is touch."

"Stow that talk; Gunny's comin' back," Bert hissed, as the stevedore returned with a small bag that jingled pleasantly. Cotton pretended to not hear him approach until the man slapped the bag into his hand. The unfinished sandwich fell into the water.

"Ere ya go, grandpa, we're obliged to ya. Now bugger off."

Cotton touched his brow in salute, and grasped the bag of silver tightly as he boarded his skiff. Setting the sail was the work of a few moments, and by dusk he had returned to the _Pearl._

His parrot settled itself on his shoulder just as Jack hailed him. "Ah, Cotton, well done! I see all my worries were for nothing. Is Gallardo still alive and well then?"

"Wind in yer sails!" the parrot yodeled.

"Wonderful! I thought the man had talent. And did you find out if O'Shea is dead yet?"

"Dead man's chest!" the bird screeched.

Jack's lip curled at the negative. "Well then, we've got a job to finish. Do you know if our lad still has his freedom?"

"Wind in –" Jack reached up and clapped his hand over the parrot's beak. "Just nod, man, my nerves are a bit on edge right now." Cotton nodded yes.

At length the full story was related. Jack was particularly pleased that a mutiny of sorts was brewing on Santiago. He assembled the crew on deck as night began to fall.

"You've all heard the stories. O'Shea's been amassing a pile of gold for years, the likes of which is rarely found these days. His men are ready to riot, and Gallardo has no doubt been planting the seeds of mutiny and watering them with his own need for revenge."

Jack climbed onto the quarterdeck and took a stance, the evening breeze whipping his hair and sash; his eyes gleamed with the new adventure at hand. "We can tip the balance if we choose! Now, it's bound to be more dangerous than plucking the feathers of some hapless merchant ship, and I won't force any of you. But know you all that I will be going to Santiago Island tomorrow, come hell or high water!"

His crew's roar of approval left Jack in no doubt that they were behind him all the way; to the death if need be. He smiled just a little. "Then let's get some sleep, mates, we've got a busy day ahead of us."

Eighteen

Governor Swann had wisely asked Captain McKay to delay his return voyage, anticipating that "the children" would be very happy to sail once again on the _Yorkshire_, under a commander known to them. The voyage was unremarkable in nearly every way, a brisk fair wind carrying them to Jamaica in goodly time and with cargo unscathed by raiders.

The Governor's former cabin was now Elizabeth and Will's, and they spent many happy hours in it discussing the Swann plantation at the western end of Jamaica, and what they would do with it to make it productive and pleasant. "No slaves, Will, I hate the very thought of that," Elizabeth insisted, and Will agreed to set an example for the other landowners by using paid laborers. But sooner or later one of them would catch the other's eye, and smile; then thoughts of serious discussion would vanish.

It surprised only Will when Elizabeth began being very ill indeed halfway through the voyage. Captain McKay turned his gaze respectfully away one fine morning as she rushed to the rail and leaned over. Will grimaced.

"I don't understand it, Captain. The sea is as smooth as glass and she's always been a good sailor."

McKay stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Good God, lad, has no one told you anything about women?" He slapped Will on the shoulder. "Promise me that if it's a boy, you'll name it after me, eh?"

Will's eyes went wide, and he hurried to Elizabeth's side to help her back to the cabin.

-

Geoffrey Bainbridge set his napkin down and smiled politely across the table. "An excellent meal, as usual, Miss Norrington. Please compliment the cook."

"Thank you, I shall." The ghost of a polite smile crossed her face, then faded. She absently smoothed the fabric of her gown as she had done at least fifty times that evening.

Geoffrey turned his glance to Caitlyn. "Forgive me if I seem forward, Miss O'Shea, but I must say I'm curious to know what your plans are for the immediate future. Am I to understand you have no family in Port Royal?" He was surprised to see a slow blush wash across her cheeks.

"I have very little family anywhere, sir. My nearest female relation is a cousin in London. I'm quite indebted to Sarah for taking in such a stray," she added lightly. "I've tried to make myself useful."

Norrington shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "It's quite all right, Miss O'Shea, I assure you. Your presence has been most reassuring to my sister, is that not right, Sarah? You are welcome amongst us for as long as you choose to stay." Sarah nodded, her gaze traveling around to each of the faces at the table.

After dessert, Sarah and Caitlyn retired to the tiny front parlor, while the men poured themselves a glass of port. "I don't like it, Geoffrey. Sarah seems to have taken Gillette's death very hard indeed. I can't remember the last time I saw her really smile." Norrington frowned, his port untouched.

Bainbridge had no hesitation in downing his glass and pouring a second. "Not too surprising, is it James? It must have been horrifying for her, a wounded man dying in her arms like that. Especially if she cared for him." He gave James a questioning glance.

"But that's just it, Geoff! I believe, I mean she told me, she didn't care for him at all." _And I can't tell the full truth even to you, my friend._ "But I suppose you're right. She never struck me as particularly sensitive, but obviously it has affected her. It's the main reason I've asked Miss O'Shea to remain with us. Sarah clings to her as if she were the last hope of a drowning man."

Bainbridge raised a brow and smirked. "You sure that's the only reason?"

Norrington had the good grace to redden. "We know nothing about her, Geoff."

Bainbridge laughed at that. "And when has that ever kept a man from falling for a girl, eh? Confess it, you've got a yen for the lass. No one could blame you, she's quite fetching really; all those auburn curls. Unclench your fist, man, I've no designs on her myself, upon my honor."

Norrington rose, his glass untouched on the table. "Perhaps we'd better join the ladies."

His friend just snorted and finished off his port. "After you, then."

-

Juan Gallardo turned restlessly in his bunk aboard the _Toro_. His crew had dossed down for the night, and two men were on watch; but he knew that here in the relative safety of Santiago Bay, the other crews and landsmen didn't keep a very sharp eye out. They expected the fortress to protect them from attack.

That was the key to his plan; for he did have one, and was waiting for the opportune moment to put it into action. He smirked a little in the darkness. Ignorance, cruelty and degeneracy had dug a very deep grave for Sir Robert over the years; all that remained was to shove him into it.

Gallardo thought that another day or two of covert rumor-mongering should ripen the situation sufficiently; then a word to his crew, and a prearranged signal to a _compadre_ in the fortress, and the grand rebellion would begin. When it was over, he intended to be the new master of Santiago Island, and Sir Robert O'Shea would be hanged in chains from the dockyard gallows as a warning to his sympathizers. It was a pleasantly satisfying thought, and Gallardo had nearly drifted off when he heard a distant booming.

Rodriguez came pounding on his door instantly. "_Capitan_, the island's under attack!"

Gallardo was dressed and shod in two minutes, and flung open the door. "Any idea who the enemy is?"

"Flores spotted sails to the east several hours ago – black ones! No one's sighted any others, so this must be the same ship. But there were no colors. They're targeting the fortress itself."

"Black sails, eh?" A wide grin spread across Gallardo's face. "I've got a good idea who's come to pay us a visit. And it's good news for us, _compadre. _ Tonight we take the island!" He buckled on his sword as he spoke, his eyes flashing fire.

"_Es verdad?_ I will roust the crew then. You know we are all behind you, Señor. I look forward to killing that murderous traitor O'Shea!" Rodriguez dashed off to the crew's quarters, yelling enthusiastically. Within minutes the entire crew had swarmed the deck, ready for their captain's command.

Gallardo strode the quarterdeck, looking down at his men. "You all know of our plans; there are no changes. Tonight we get rid of Robert O'Shea once and for all. But it requires your courage and your loyalty; are you still all agreed?" The crew let out a bloodthirsty yell as with a single voice.

Gallardo nodded. "_Excellente._ Then to the fortress!" He leaped to the main deck and was the first to set foot on the dock, his crew right behind him as they pounded through narrow alleyways to the gate of the fortress. Rodriguez sent up a signal flare, before rushing after them.

The gate-guard dimly supposed they had arrived to defend the fortress, and opened for them without even being asked. He was stuffed headfirst into an empty ale-barrel for his trouble, and the men continued their headlong rush unchecked until they reached the main hall.

Nearly all of O'Shea's private guards were manning the guns on the battlements. Attempting to hit a relatively small target at a very great distance was proving difficult. The gunfire and their curses of frustration provided cover for Gallardo's men, who worked their way through the remaining guards still loyal to O'Shea with deadly stealth.

Gallardo looked neither right nor left, but plowed his way straight through the hall and up the stairs of the North Tower. He knew where O'Shea's quarters were, and that the cowardly dog was probably shivering beneath his sheets at the mere thought of cannon fire. Just as well he didn't know that his own personal Angel of Death was upon him, nor that his valet stood ready to let that nemesis through the oaken chamber door.

The valet's hand shook as he fumbled the huge keyring. Gallardo shoved the door open and stepped inside, smirking as he viewed the huddled form of O'Shea on the bed, sheets drawn up under his chin. "Well now, what have we here? Got ourselves a nice fat rat in a trap, I'm thinking."

It wasn't easy being forceful in your nightshirt, but O'Shea gave it a shot. "What do y'think yer doin', ya bloody bastard?" The effect was ruined when his voice quavered.

Gallardo's lip curled. "Quite simple; even you should be able to understand. I am now master of this fortress; and you are going to die." He smiled pleasantly.

O'Shea slid out of bed, his face white. Standing there barefooted and barelegged in his nightshirt, he was a pathetic sight. "Can I at least get dressed? Leave me that much, for the love of God."

Gallardo nodded, and leaned against the doorframe, staring coldly. "Hurry it up." O'Shea stumbled to the fine mahogany wardrobe and pulled the door open, revealing a single pair of breeches and a frock coat, dangling in isolated splendor from hooks. He stretched out his hand for the breeches; then stepped into the wardrobe, and pulled the door shut after him.

"_Bastardo!_ Come out of there, you can't think that will protect you for an instant!" Furious, Gallardo heaved the door open again.

The wardrobe was empty.


	10. Chapters 19 & 20

Nineteen

Jack Sparrow stood on the quarterdeck of his ship, spyglass peering through the moonlit night at the squat fortress that hulked above them. At this range a good half of their shot missed the walls entirely, but now and then a satisfying shower of rock and mortar rained down from a direct hit.

"Steady firing, Mr. Gibbs – nice slow rhythm, just enough to keep their attention, eh? No point in doing all of Gallardo's work for him." Gibbs smirked and relayed the order.

Jack wasn't surprised that none of the ships in the bay had set sail to come after them; why should they, when they were protected from his shot by a narrow spit of land? He would pound the fortress till dawn, and then stand out to sea for a day and see what transpired. If Gallardo was the man he thought him, he'd take care of business and then come out to meet the _Pearl_.

The smell of burnt gunpowder lay in a haze over the deck, the guns pounding regularly every half-minute. No one at the swivel guns of course, they couldn't get any distance. Leisurely scanning the squat fortress and the granite promontory it sat on, Jack's vision picked out the moonlit shadow of something – an animal, or perhaps a man – scuttling across the rocks toward the water.

"Look there, Captain – his men are deserting their posts and runnin' like scared sheep!" Gibbs' lip curled; even pirates knew better than that.

"Hmm… I wonder. Keep a sharp eye on the shoreline, mate." Jack snapped his glass shut. His instincts were unfortunately accurate. An hour later Gibbs reported that a tiny skiff had set out from a cranny in the rocks, its passenger first rowing, and then raising the boat's small sail.

"Bloody hell, it's got to be O'Shea!" Jack snarled in frustration. Gibbs grimaced; there was no way they could catch up with a sailboat dodging amongst the shallows of innumerable islets, and they both knew it. The best they could hope for was an act of God; a sudden tsunami under the skiff perhaps, followed by a satisfying smash against nice sharp rocks.

Jack controlled himself visibly, his face registering anger, dismay, then resignation; he sighed gustily. "Still the guns, Mr. Gibbs. I think we've done enough. Now we must simply see what we can find out when Captain Gallardo comes to pay us a call."

-

Sir Robert O'Shea had always had the devil's own luck. It did not fail him now, for his skiff did not spring a significant leak until he had reached the shipping lanes northeast of the island of Jamaica. Then his luck would have been very bad indeed, if the _Yorkshire_ had not seen his signal and come about to pick him up.

Sir Robert had never labored under the impression that his men either admired or respected him. He had thus had been prepared for exactly the situation in which he found himself, beginning with the construction of the passageway from his bedchamber to the caves beneath the cliff. He'd killed the man who designed it, of course, but that had been a trivial bump in the road of his malicious career.

He'd kept the skiff stocked with ship's biscuit and a cask of water, clothing and boots. His forethought extended no further, for O'Shea had come to rely far too much on his luck and his uncanny ability to weasel his way out of anything.

Elizabeth and Will stood by curiously with the other passengers, as this stranger climbed to the deck of the _Yorkshire_, then held out his hand to Captain McKay. "I can't thank you enough, sir, for your timely arrival! Sure an' it would have gone badly for me if you hadn't showed up." The stranger smiled broadly; there was something lizardlike about his smile, and Elizabeth took a half-step back.

"Captain Angus McKay, master of the _HMS Yorkshire_, sir," the Captain murmured, bowing formally. McKay had met all sorts of men in his long career, and he felt in his bones there was something not right about this one.

The stranger bowed obsequiously, still smiling. "Your servant, sir. Sir Robert Sullivan, of the Leitrim Sullivans."

"And how did you find yourself in the middle of the Jamaica Channel with a leaky boat, Sir Robert? 'Tis a strange place to be taking a pleasure-sail, and alone at that." McKay's bushy gray eyebrows expressed unwilling attention.

"Ah, and there's a sad tale indeed, sir, and a thirsty one as well. If I might impose?" Sir Robert pulled out a shabby handkerchief and mopped his red face dramatically.

McKay nodded. "Cook's been holding lunch for us, we may as well go below. Mrs. Turner?" He offered Elizabeth his arm, and they proceeded to the small cabin off the galley that served as the captain's dining room.

The cook had outdone himself, as they were so close to Port Royal and fresh supplies, and there was no longer a need to conserve what they had in stock. A beautifully poached snapper gleamed upon the board, with fresh rolls and a small dish of butter, and stewed apples with cinnamon.

Sir Robert could barely wait till grace had been said before he began. "Aye, and well you might ask how such a fate came to befall me, Captain," he nodded, helping himself to a huge portion of the fish. "In fact, I had only planned to be away from me farm for perhaps a few hours, do a bit of fishin' as it were, but unfortunately I have had a tendency to fallin' into a daze without warning, ever since I took a terrible blow to me head."

Here he gave an aggrieved sigh. "Any road. I must have become unconscious, for when I came to, I found I'd drifted far from me home." O'Shea chugged his wine; Elizabeth stifled a shudder.

"Where _is_ your land precisely, Sir Robert?" McKay asked pointedly.

O'Shea reached for a handful of rolls, rooting in the basket as Elizabeth watched, appalled. "'Tis just a small holding, a hundred twenty acres of cane near the coast, a bit west of Chardonniere; Hispaniola, y'know," he added patronizingly, nodding to the lady. He smirked, judging her to be fascinated by his tale.

"Indeed. I am most surprised that you would even think to go out in an open boat all alone, considering your affliction." McKay observed dryly, pouring himself a modest glass of wine.

"Ah right, well it hasn't bothered me much of late, and I suppose I've gotten a tad careless. Heh."

"And what will you do when you reach Port Royal, Sir Robert?" Will added, after an anxious glance to his unusually quiet wife. "Have you family there, or friends?"

"As a matter of fact, I've got no family there; but I've a number of lads who owe me favors, if you know what I mean." He winked broadly. "And that'll get me whatever I need."

Elizabeth put her napkin to her mouth. "I'm so sorry… must go."

Will helped her up with a glance to McKay. "I'll return directly, as soon as I've got my wife settled." O'Shea waved a hand, his face reddened from the wine he'd drunk. McKay stood respectfully as Elizabeth rose and left the cabin.

Once on deck, Elizabeth's distress ceased abruptly; she felt badly when she got a good look at Will's worried face. "Sorry, love, I'm actually feeling fine," she smiled apologetically.

Will glanced about, then back to her face, confused. "Then why – "

"I just have this strange feeling that Robert Sullivan is lying through his teeth, Will. Don't you find it most unlikely that he drifted all the way from Hispaniola in an open boat without anyone noticing?"

Will nodded thoughtfully. "If they had noticed, they would have investigated. I'm going to have a quick look at his boat. Keep watch for me, would you?" She nodded, and he quickly shimmied down to the waterlogged skiff. He was back on deck in less than five minutes. "No sign of any fishing hooks, line or net. He's got a huge amount of ship's biscuit for one person, though."

Elizabeth chewed her lip for a moment. "Definitely odd. You'd best get back to dinner, I suppose. I'll be in our cabin, having a bit of a rest."

Will kissed her gently, smoothing her hair back. "No climbing out of windows to look for more clues, eh?"

"You're no fun at all, Will Turner," she retorted.

"That's not what you said last night!" he teased, and laughed as she turned an indignant look upon him before he went below.

Twenty

The _Yorkshire_ docked in Port Royal the next morning, the brilliant sunlight providing a glow to the harbor that made it seem even more like home than Elizabeth had remembered. "It feels like we've been gone forever," she confided to Will, as preparations were made for passengers to disembark.

Will's admiring gaze traveled over her pretty summer gown and hat. "You look wonderful, love. I'm the luckiest man in Port Royal." He kissed her tenderly.

"Possibly in all the Caribbean," she answered him, then blushed as a clump of dockworkers began hooting and whistling. Will just grinned and gave them a jaunty wave.

-

"Mind your footing here, Miss O'Shea, it is quite wet," Norrington murmured, holding out his hand.

Caitlyn lifted the skirt of her sturdy cotton gown as she stepped onto the wharf's slick wooden pathway, then glanced around at the bustle of activity. "Does it ever get quiet here? It seems the entire town is engaged in some labor or other." Her bright gaze flicked from one ship to another. The dock was indeed unusually busy, even by Port Royal standards.

"Ah, the _Yorkshire_'s back," Norrington noted. Caitlyn glanced at his expression, which was unchanged; but she could tell something was up from his voice and stance. She'd become familiar with that voice over the last few weeks, and it was obvious that her escort was agitated beneath his calm exterior.

"It's a lovely ship. Do you know her captain?"

"Haven't met him personally, but I'm told the current Governor's daughter and her new husband are aboard. Shall we play the welcoming party?" He glanced down at her upturned face, an ironic smile crossing his own.

"Of course, if you think I'm presentable."

"More than presentable, Miss O'Shea. Much more."

Caitlyn admired the strong line of his jaw for just an instant, then shook herself. Not the thing, really, to be carrying a torch for a man so much beyond you; not the thing at all.

Will Turner was helping his own lady down the loading ramp as Norrington and Caitlyn appeared. "Be careful, Mrs. Turner, you're carrying precious cargo there," he teased gently, "not to mention your own estimable self."

"You're getting pretty quick with your words, Mr. Turner, I didn't even have a chance to scold you for not valuing me highly enough," Elizabeth laughed. As she reached firm footing, she glanced around. "James! How wonderful to see you!" She held her hand out to the Commodore, and gave a friendly smile to his companion.

Norrington took her hand, and bowed. "Mrs. Turner, I presume? The sea voyage seems to have agreed with you. And Mr. Turner as well. Please allow me to introduce Miss Caitlyn O'Shea." _And let them wonder about her a bit, why not?_

"Miss O'Shea, a pleasure." Will took her hand in turn, and she blushed slightly.

"I hope you will not stand on ceremony, Miss O'Shea; I much prefer to be called Elizabeth. Have you been in Port Royal long?"

They were interrupted by the shouts of longshoremen. "Get out a the way, bloody 'ell, how we going to get this lot unloaded – blinkin' loafers, think they can – "

Norrington quelled the offender with a glance before his profanity became any worse, then turned back. "I would be honored to have you to dine with us this evening, if you are not too fatigued. I should very much like you to meet my sister as well."

"That would be lovely, James. I can't tell you how much I have been looking forward to being on solid ground," Elizabeth replied enthusiastically. Will nodded.

"Then I'll tell Kidder to expect six of us; I know Bainbridge will want to meet you both. He's done an excellent job in the Governor's absence. I do hope your father is feeling better, Mrs. – er, Elizabeth."

"Yes, quite a bit; my aunt has him well in hand. We are all very relieved."

Dockhand cursing broke out in full force as a squat, portly man shoved his way down the loading plank. "Bugger off yerself! Don't be gettin' in the way of yer betters," the man bellowed, his face reddened with drink even at this early hour.

The loud man tried to squeeze by the little group, but stumbled and nearly fell over Norrington's feet. Norrington's hand shot out quickly and steadied him. "I beg your pardon," he murmured, his eyes on the man's crimson face.

The man glanced briefly at the Commodore's colorful uniform, then tilted his hat over his eyes. "No 'arm done, m'lord," he muttered, and sidled past them, making his way towards the town.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Norrington gave Will a questioning look.

"His name's Sir Robert Sullivan, or so he says. We picked him up from a leaky skiff yesterday. Unpleasant fellow."

"Indeed. He certainly seems to have a knack for giving offense. Strange that he did not greet you properly, since you met on board." Norrington frowned, watching the retreating figure. "I shall have my men keep an eye out for Sir Robert, or whoever he is. Well, I expect you will wish to go home and rest, so I shall not keep you standing here." He bowed, his smile unrestrained now. "Miss O'Shea?" He offered his arm, and she took it with a last smile to Elizabeth; then they moved off.

Elizabeth turned to Will. "What fantastic luck! He seems to be quite smitten with Miss O'Shea." She gave him a happy grin.

Will's eyes opened wide and he turned to look after the retreating pair. "What? I must have missed something; I didn't notice…"

"Men never do. But I can assure you that she feels the same for him, which is a great relief indeed. I wonder how they met. Well, no matter. Let's go home, love."

-

Robert O'Shea actually scurried, so great was his haste to get away from the docks. He could not risk being recognized; he had far too many enemies on both sides of the law. Down an odorous alleyway he reached a small, scarred oaken door, and beat on it with his fist until someone opened the small hatch and peered out.

"Who the 'ell are you and what yer doin' here so early?" O'Shea could see one bleary eye squinting at him.

"Open the bloody door, Grimsby, or I'll mash your bones to pulp."

"Gah! I'd know yer rummy breath anywheres, O'Shea," Grimsby retorted, and opened the door just far enough to allow Sir Robert's portly figure to squeeze through. A spirited conversation ensued within doors; the upshot was that Sir Robert was given room in a tiny, miserable shed in back of the Pig's Eye tavern. "I'm not ejectin' a paying guest for you, ya freeloader," Grimsby growled. "Teach ya not to pay yer debts."

"Shut yer gob, Grim. I could land you and everyone 'ere in prison, with what I know." O'Shea leaned back on the dirty mattress and closed his eyes. "While I'm here, my name is Robert Sullivan, got that? I'll want a bottle of brandy in an hour. Now bugger off. I need to think."


	11. Chapters 21 & 22

Twenty-One

Caitlyn stumbled as they departed the wharf, gripping Norrington's arm to steady herself. "These cobblestones are awfully rough."

He looked at her anxiously. "Are you quite well, Miss O'Shea?"

"Ah, yes, I'll be fine. I just felt a bit wobbly for a moment, that's all."

"It was those rough men at the docks, wasn't it?"

"No, of course not. You forget, I shipped with pirates. I heard much worse while I was aboard the _Black Pearl_."

James frowned slightly, not liking to think of her in that situation. "I had thought to take you on a tour of Fort Charles today, but if you'd rather –"

She smiled up at him. "I should love to see the fort. But you'll need to let Kidder know that you're having guests for dinner." _And I need to down a glass of something to steady my nerves._ The moment she'd looked into her accursed brother's eyes on the Port Royal docks, her hope that life had finally taken a turn for the better had been utterly shattered. She knew that somehow he would find her, and make her miserable again.

"Quite right. We'll stop at the house, and hire a cart from there. No point in wearing out your feet," he added thoughtfully.

Sarah was abed with a headache, so they hired a small pony-trap to carry them up the promontory to the fort. James paid the driver to wait for them, and gave Caitlyn his arm as they strolled the stone pavements of the exercise yard.

Again she could sense that he was remembering things that weren't entirely pleasant. "You walk the halls of your mighty fortress, Commodore, and yet you are troubled," she said quietly.

Norrington struggled with himself for a moment, his natural reticence warring with the urge he always felt when near her, the urge to pour out his soul. "I'll tell you a story, if you like. Once there was a very dedicated young Captain, who held himself to the highest standards of behavior. He made himself the enemy of pirates everywhere, and he found himself a fair lady that he hoped to love and cherish for the rest of his life."

They climbed to the battlements as he spoke. "But fate decided to play with the Captain's fortunes and beliefs. He became a Commodore," he smiled wryly, "and lost his lady-love to a blacksmith turned amateur buccaneer."

"Fate has an odd sense of humor," Caitlyn noted. "What did you do then?"

Norrington stifled a laugh; she could always see through him. Not that he'd been all that devious in his storytelling. "There was a huge battle here on the day that a pirate captain was to have been hung. Mr. Turner – the gentleman you met at the docks, who is now Elizabeth's husband – decided to rescue the man from the gallows. They created an astonishing amount of havoc before my men surrounded them… right here."

They stopped in a small stone courtyard. "Turner stood up for the pirate even then. And Elizabeth threw in her lot with Turner," he added.

Caitlyn's heart turned painfully. "That must have been horrid for you. And so very public, too."

"It hurt like the devil. But, you know, stiff upper lip and all that. I decided I wanted her to be happy, however that was accomplished."

_Generous heart. _"And what happened to the pirate fellow?"

Norrington tilted that dry smile to her again. "Got clean away. And later he turned privateer, and captured a ship bound for England with a fair Irish lass aboard it."

Caitlyn's mouth fell open. "Not – _Jack Sparrow_? Good Lord." She glanced upward to the topmost battlements, and the large campanile arch that stood proudly against the sky. Norrington followed her gaze.

"Miss O'Shea, would you promise me something?"

She turned her full gaze upon him, and it took his breath away. "If it is in my power, Commodore, of course."

_Propriety be damned_. "Whatever you do, stay the hell away from that bloody ledge," he muttered, and taking her by the shoulders, he kissed her thoroughly.

It was the sweetest thing she'd ever known. She didn't feel at all afraid of him; he was a truly honourable man. Right there, Caitlyn determined that her wretched brother would not come between her and James.

-

His sister was right here in town! Robert O'Shea simply couldn't believe it; even his uncanny luck usually did not extend this far. What she was doing strolling about with a Navy officer, he had no idea; but if his pounding head would only settle down, he was certain he could put this felicitous coincidence to good use.

It had been no trouble discovering which house she was at, town gossip being plentiful and cheap. But he had enough problems without bringing the Navy down on his head. And how had she escaped from pirates, anyway? He toyed with the notion that Captain Patchell might have lied to him about that; people often did. Ah, it was too much; he needed a drink!

O'Shea shoved aside the slatted door that covered the lean-to's open end, and bellowed. "**_Grimsby!_** Bring me brandy or I'll have your guts for garters!"

The publican, suffering from a sore head himself, arrived ten minutes later with a small flask and a mug. "That's all for you, O'Shea, till I see some 'ard coin. Go runnin' to the constable, I don't care, see if he believes ya." He scrubbed at his face with one dirty sleeve, and grimaced.

O'Shea grunted and poured a drink. "I need quill and ink, whatever you can scrounge. Take that for the expense." He threw a single shilling into the dust at Grimsby's feet.

The man moaned in pain as he bent down to pick it up, causing the blood to rush to his head. "Bugger. I'll bring it, but don't expect me to come runnin' for ya again, y'can bloody well shift yer carcass to the main room like everyone else."

Half an hour later, O'Shea laid a single sheet of rough paper upon a wooden board and began his letter.

"My Dearest Sister…"

Twenty-Two

That night's dinner party started out awkwardly, Geoffrey Bainbridge being the only one present without a history or a troubled mind. By the end of the evening, however, the very real regard between Elizabeth and Norrington had eased things considerably, and Bainbridge's natural courtesy had smoothed the conversation through its inevitable bumps.

By the time the Turners were ready to depart, the little group felt almost comfortable with each other, Sarah Norrington even smiling as she had before Gillette's death. Norrington inwardly rejoiced to see her improved, and credited Caitlyn's companionship. They all agreed there must be another dinner, at the very least, before the Turners left to take up residence at the Swann plantation.

Two weeks passed before all six could be present for an entire evening, and Caitlyn spent the time in almost constant fear that her brother would show up on the doorstep. His note had been bad enough; pretending to inquire after her health, then insulting her by implying a clandestine relationship between her and James. Then, of course, the slyly-worded threats.

It was driving her mad, and she couldn't tell anyone; not even Sarah. It was simply not possible to admit to her new friends that she was sister to such a murdering, traitorous devil.

"Honestly, Caitlyn, you're no fun anymore at all. Do tell me what's wrong!" Sarah insisted, as she fussed with her gown.

Caitlyn turned from gazing out the window; she did that far too much lately. "I'm just a bit blue, I suppose."

"Well, I can see _that_. I hope Geoffrey likes this color," she murmured, and then blushed. "Um, did I say that out loud?"

Caitlyn stifled a snicker. "I'm afraid so. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"Oh, God, is it that obvious? Do you think he feels –" she stopped and swallowed.

"I'd say if he doesn't already, it's only a matter of time. Have you not noticed how he watched over you when you were, ah, under the weather?" She didn't want to say any more.

"Didn't notice much of anything really. It's odd, those weeks just seem all dark and sort of foggy. But now _you're_ all down in the dumps and I want to know why! It's not like you." Sarah flung the gown onto her bed and stood before Caitlyn, arms crossed.

Caitlyn chewed her lip for a moment. She'd never had a close friend; perhaps Sarah would not draw back in disgust if she told her secret. And what a relief it would be to finally get it out! "All right, I'll tell you about it tonight before we retire. If I start now you'll never be ready, and I am pretty sure that was the Turner's carriage pulling up. Come on, I'll help you with your hair."

-

Gibbs squinted into the dipping sun as they prepared to dock in Port Royal's harbor. He slugged back a hefty dose of rum – medicinal, of course – and turned to eye his captain.

Jack stood on the quarterdeck, his hair whipping in the freshening wind. He had that look again; the look Gibbs was coming to dread. The look of a pirate who'd forgotten the search for gold and lived for revenge.

"Wish Gallardo had kept his mouth shut about O'Shea's connections in town. All I can say is, I hope we find the bastard this time, or I'm afeared for Jack's mind," he muttered to Cotton.

"Wind in yer sails!" Cotton pulled a grubby bandanna from his pocket and wiped his face, his gaze fixed on Jack.

"Aye. Man's half-mad as it is. But," he added, cheering up considerably, "that last batch of cargo we pinched from the Froggies should sell nicely 'ere in town, and then we'll be sittin' pretty no matter what."

Jack couldn't help but grin as the _Black Pearl_ dropped anchor, the Union Jack fluttering proudly at her topmainmast. It was a most gratifying improvement over the last time he'd sailed into Port Royal. This privateering was indeed quite profitable; but he had a job to finish.

Jack clambered down to the main deck as the ramps began to be laid. "Mr. Gibbs, I'm going ashore. Set a watch, and then every man may have till midnight in town. But please tell them not to do anything stupid. This isn't a pleasure-cruise, eh?"

"Aye, Captain. I don't expect the Commodore would care too much to have us tearin' up the town, even if we are all respectable-like now," Gibbs added, trying not to laugh out loud at the thought. "But what'll I tell the men if they ask how long we'll be docked?"

Jack leaned very close to his mate and spoke fiercely. "As long as it takes. O'Shea's here, I know it. And we're going to watch every ship, every road, and every rathole in Port Royal."

"Captain… _Jack_." Gibbs spoke low as well, his eyes fixed on Sparrow's face. "You can't go on chasin' him forever, it's not healthy. If we don't find him 'ere, will you give up this madness? Leave the bastard to the justice of the good Lord, it'll come soon enough for the likes of him."

Jack straightened, one emotion after another crossing his face; then he squinted into the setting sun. He raised his voice and addressed the crew. "All right, mates. We'll set sail in seven days, O'Shea found or not. But in that time I want every man who wants to remain with me, to put his heart's blood into the search!" Then he whirled and pointed his drawn sword towards the town. "And we start tonight – with the taverns!"

A roar of approval was his response, and Jack Sparrow led the charge onto the wharves of the unsuspecting town.

-

The ladies had excused themselves from the dining table and were retiring to the front parlor when Kidder stopped Caitlyn in the hall. "Begging your pardon, miss, but a rather disreputable-looking boy left this for you at the door some half an hour ago. He said it was urgent." Kidder barely managed to stifle his look of disgust as he handed her a soiled envelope.

Caitlyn paled when she saw the handwriting; but controlled herself. "Thank you, Kidder," she replied quietly; then tucked it into her pocket, and followed Sarah and Elizabeth into the parlor. The manservant pressed his lips together tightly and returned to the dining room to pour the port, convinced that he would soon have to inform his master of Miss O'Shea's strange behavior.

Elizabeth turned her brilliant smile on Sarah as soon as the tea was poured. "I can't tell you how grateful I am to your brother for being so kind to us, Sarah. He is truly a gentleman."

Sarah grinned back. "Well, I could have told you that. And while I am as loyal to my brother as any sister could be, I can see that Will suits you very well indeed for a husband. I think James would have been a bit too stuffy for you; although he's improving lately." She tilted her head to Caitlyn.

Elizabeth smiled merrily. "I won't tease you too much, Caitlyn, but we can all see how distracted you are. So there is not much point in pretending you haven't noticed James' interest," she added. "He's quite a good man, if you can get past the Navy formality."

Caitlyn shook herself and concentrated on joining the conversation. "He has not been so stiff as you seem to think him, at least not since we met." She smiled wryly. "Of course, I looked like a street-urchin when he first saw me, so perhaps that is not too surprising."

Elizabeth sighed. "Sarah told me a bit about it. It's not a bed of roses, is it, sailing with Jack Sparrow? But somehow, you can never stay mad at him."

Caitlyn smiled slightly. "I'm not sure how I managed to get through those days without clubbing him with a belaying-pin. But I regard him as a friend now. At least, as much of a friend as he can be."

"He is a pirate, after all!" Elizabeth laughed. "Sarah, if you ever meet the man, have a care for your heart. He is quite the devil with the ladies."

"I can't imagine being swept off my feet by a pirate," Sarah noted fastidiously.

"Ah, she sounds just like her brother. 'Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them,' was what he said to me long ago. But you must imagine Jack Sparrow if you can; wild black hair, a wicked smile, lovely brown eyes with the devil in them. And a dab hand with sword and pistol as well." Elizabeth's smile changed to thoughtfulness. "Pretends to have a black heart, but he's a good man to have around when you need him."

"Come, Elizabeth, you make him sound like Sir Walter Raleigh. I wouldn't care to be on the wrong end of his sword, if he were truly angry with you," Caitlyn added, thinking of her brother. Her head was beginning to throb, the horrid letter seeming to burn in her pocket. "Do you know, I don't feel very well; I'd better go lie down."

"Here are the gentlemen. I'll be back in just a moment, Elizabeth," Sarah said anxiously. They made their excuses to the others and went upstairs, Caitlyn gripping the railing to steady herself.

As soon as they reached Caitlyn's room, Sarah shut the door and took a firm stance. "Right my lass, you'll be telling me what's up this minute, and no mistake."

Caitlyn sighed and pulled the letter from her pocket. "I received this today. I dread opening it, for it cannot contain anything but evil and heartbreak."

"Oh, very dramatic. I cannot see what can be so bad about a letter. Hold on a minute; who would be writing to you? And there's no postmark." Sarah's confidence fell away as she worked through that idea.

Caitlyn gritted her teeth. "It's from my brother. He's here in Port Royal. Damn him to hell."


	12. Chapters 23 & 24

Twenty-Three

"Oi, Sir Robert, that bloke what you said ter look out for is 'ere." The filthy boy shoved open the door of the lean-to and stuck his head inside, squinting in the dim light.

The huge man behind him smacked him across the head. "It's Captain Tanner, you wretch, not 'that bloke', and dun yer forget it." The boy squeaked and scurried off.

O'Shea rose from the disintegrating pallet that had been his bed for two weeks. "Ah, Tanner, well done. Was worried you might not have received my message." He held out a sweating hand that shook slightly.

"Been drinkin' again, eh Robbie? Don't bother denyin' it, I can see it across your face." Tanner spat onto the dirt floor. "So wot's the job? I was in the middle of a profitable bit o' business when you hollered for me."

"I'm in no mood to apologize. You brought a full dozen men as I asked?"

"Eleven countin' me. Got us a nice little six-gunner we took offen a man wot don't need it no more." Tanner smirked evilly. "On account of cos he met wiv a most unfortunate and fatal accident. I've got my men hid belowdecks like you said, but it's tight. They ain't gonna stay there forever."

O'Shea rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. "I've got a visitor coming tonight. She'll be joining us aboard, whether she wishes to or not." He grimaced when Tanner bellowed a laugh. "Gah, hold yer noise. She's a valuable baggage, she is, and we can get a fair amount of gold in trade for returnin' her in one piece and unharmed."

"Can we now? I'm liking this plan. But why the hell would she be comin' to this end of town? I can't fink it's just to see your pretty face."

O'Shea leaned closer to Tanner, his lip curled. "Because she's my sister, and she knows exactly what I'm capable of if she don't do what she's told."

Tanner eyed the older man admiringly; he might be a drunkard, but he could put together a plan better than Old Scratch himself. "I got yer. I heard tell about that little mutiny on Santiago. Lookin' to rebuild your empire, are ya?"

"Make no mistake about it, my murderous friend, I _will_ have my island back someday. And as it happens, my sister has made some rather well-off friends, and we can use that." O'Shea lit a foul-smelling oil lamp. "Once she's aboard, we'll send the lad with our demands, and then put out to sea a bit until they send a man to parley."

Tanner shrugged. "Sounds pretty safe ta me. What if she don't come, though?"

"Oh, she'll come. I've had her watched, and she's become very fond of her new friends. She won't want to risk them having any 'accidents'." O'Shea's face, lit by the smoking lamp, looked like a devil from hell. "And Tanner… if anyone but me shows up, kill 'em."

"Got ya. We'll leave a lantern lit ta welcome yez." Tanner laughed again at his own wit, then strode his way into the back alley behind the tavern and disappeared into the night.

-

Caitlyn was white as salt when she'd finished the letter. Sarah stalked the bedroom angrily, fists clenched. "The bastard! Your own brother saying such things! I wish he was here right now."

Caitlyn sighed and stripped off her gown. "Will you go downstairs and just tell everyone that I've gone to bed?"

Sarah was relieved to see her friend being so sensible. "That's my girl. We'll tell James all about the trouble in the morning, and he'll take care of it, you'll see." With a last worried glance, she shut the door behind her and hurried down stairs to rejoin her friends.

Norrington looked up anxiously as Sarah entered the parlor. "Well, how is she? Will she be all right?"

"Yes, brother, she just has a fierce headache. She's gone to bed."

Elizabeth and Will rose together. "We'd best be going, then, it's rather late anyway," Elizabeth said kindly. Norrington nodded, and they began to gather up Elizabeth's shawl and hat.

Geoffrey Bainbridge smiled down at Sarah. "You've been very good to Miss O'Shea. She is lucky to have you for a friend."

Sarah flushed, but met his gaze, her heart thumping. "She's been a good friend to me as well."

The carriage was sent for, and the Turners stepped out into the fresh night air. Norrington had no sooner closed the front door than Kidder stepped forward. "Begging your pardon, sir, if I might have a word?"

"Yes, Kidder, what is it?"

"It's about Miss O'Shea, sir. I saw her in the upstairs hall but a moment ago. She seemed to be wearing men's breeches, sir."

Norrington's gaze fixed on Kidder's face. "Good Lord. Did she look flushed? Perhaps she's got a fever–" He broke off and rushed up the stairs.

Sarah ran to the dining room window and flung it open. Sure enough, Caitlyn was dropping to the ground before her eyes. "What the bloody HELL are you doing?" Sarah hissed loudly.

Caitlyn was utterly calm. "Going to meet my brother, of course."

"I told you to leave it to James! You'll be killed in that part of town. Caitlyn, stop!"

But her friend just smiled sadly. "I'm going to take care of Robert once and for all." She patted her hips, and Sarah noticed the outline of a pair of pistols dangling from sashes that Caitlyn had slung across her body.

"You've lost your mind!" she gasped. Caitlyn shrugged, and slipped off into the alleys of Port Royal.

Twenty-Four

The weeks of exploring Port Royal were paying off, as Caitlyn stepped surely through the streets and back alleys. She had been afraid, but that was gone now. Now she felt only a strange lightness, for one way or the other, by dawn she would be a free woman. No more fear, no more dread. That part of her life was over, and she herself would bring it to pass.

She didn't falter in her direction till she was within a block of the Pig's Eye tavern, and then the sounds of drunken carousing and the sight of a customer being tossed into the street gave her the clue she needed to find the hellhole.

She sidled through the front entrance on the heels of a large, ill-smelling man of huge proportions, using him as a shield of sorts to block her from the view of the room. This worked until he paused at the bar; but by then she'd seen the back door her brother had described, and made a dash for it.

The back room was dim, and grew positively dark once the door had swung shut again. Caitlyn plastered herself against the backside of the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust. The tavern noise covered any sounds the occupant might have made; but she could smell the stench of rum sweated from pores.

A flint was struck, dazzling her for but a moment, and then the glow of an oil lamp enlightened the dank little storage room. "Right on time, I see, dear sister. I hope you brought what I asked?" O'Shea lounged at his ease in a decrepit chair, propped against an old crate. He looked very satisfied with himself. "Breeches, eh? Can't say they suit you." He looked her up and down insolently.

"Damn you, Robert, and your demands. Twenty pieces of gold just like that? Did you expect me to rob my friends?" Caitlyn's voice was low and terse.

"I didn't expect anything of the sort, sister; I assumed your paramour would have been happy to help you with a trifle of that sort. After all, I _am_ family."

"_Not any more, you bastard_._"_ Caitlyn drew a pistol, cocked it, and fired point-blank. Only O'Shea's still-quick reflexes saved his life that time; as it was, the bullet took off the top of his left ear.

He let out a yell as the blood streamed down. "You crazy wench! I'll–" he lunged for her, but she side-stepped him neatly and delivered a kick to his ribs that knocked the wind right out of him. He lay gasping on the floorboards as she drew her second pistol.

"You just couldn't leave me alone, could you, Robert? When I got your letter I knew I'd have to do this, or I'd live in fear all the rest of my days."

"It's bloody-handed foul murder, you'll hang for it!"

"Consider it justice, brother. After all, no one but me ever figured out that you were responsible for my mother's death, and so many others. Just call me the avenging angel." She wanted to sound cocky, fearless, but a tear slipped down one cheek. The pistol at his temple made an ominous click as she drew back the lock.

O'Shea's luck held. The door swung open suddenly as Grimsby barreled through, knocking Caitlyn back and setting off the pistol. She rolled, pulling a wicked-looking dirk from a hip sheath as she came to her feet. Grimsby lashed out with a heavy cudgel, and Caitlyn dropped like a stone at his feet, her eyes rolling back.

"Jaysus, Grim, she's no good to us dead!" O'Shea sat up, pressing an ancient handkerchief to his ear.

"Shut up, O'Shea, or I'll shoot you myself. She's out cold, but if her head's as hard as yours, I'm bettin' she won't be out for long. The cart's out back."

-

"You've been a great help, love. If fate is kind to me, I'll be back to thank you later, aye?" Jack took the bar wench's hand and bowed over it as if she were a lady in satin.

"Oh, Captain, yer too kind. But I'll take my thanks now, if you please, three shillings as agreed." The girl crossed her arms, her expression stern.

Jack made a face as he fished in his pocket. "To think that a lass of such tender years could be so hard-hearted. Mr. Gibbs, round up as many of the crew as you can and meet me at the docks. I'm wanting to have a bit of a chat with this Captain Tanner."

Ten minutes later, nearly twenty of the _Pearl's_ crew were present when Jack hailed the ratty little sloop moored nearby. "Ho the ship! Is Captain Tanner aboard?"

A single dim lantern in the prow backlit the figure on deck. "Captain Tanner ain't got time for chitchat. Wot yer want?"

Jack's smile was deceptively disarming. "I've been informed that the captain and I might have a mutual acquaintance by the name of Robert O'Shea. I've a strong desire to know where Sir Robert might be found."

The dark figure turned away and stepped toward the tiny hatch leading belowdecks. Gibbs could hear three loud thumps. It was obviously a signal, for suddenly the hatch burst open and a gang of scurvy ruffians swarmed out onto the deck, leaping for the dock with blades drawn.

Almost before they knew it, the _Pearl's_ crew found themselves in a ferocious fight that quickly backflowed into the streets near the wharf. The sides were evenly matched until four of Tanner's men took to their heels into the alleys. Tanner found himself with the tip of Gibb's cutlass beneath his chin.

Jack sheathed his sword as he sauntered up to Tanner, an ominous grin on his face. "Now then, mate, as I was saying. I'll be needing to know the whereabouts of Robert O'Shea. And be assured that I am fresh out of patience. _Savvy?_"


	13. Chapters 25 & 26 Finis

And so our tale comes to an end, gentle readers… thank you for coming along for the ride!

Twenty-Five

The gentlemen wasted no time in making after Caitlyn, once Sarah had divulged her intended destination. James paused only to strap on his sword. "That's the bloody worst section of town; there's not a moment to waste!" Geoffrey merely nodded, fetching his own blade. Will gave Elizabeth a quick kiss, and the three men were off down the dark streets.

Geoffrey had never seen his friend so passionately angry. James swore under his breath as they ran, breaking into louder bursts of "I'll kill him, the damn devil – wring his bloody neck with my bare hands…" His tone was cold as death.

_Good thing we left the ladies at home_, Geoffrey reflected, as they rounded an alleyway corner and skidded through something disgusting. The tavern doorway oozed an oily light into the lane as they made for it at top speed.

-

Sarah peered down the dark streets as Elizabeth leaned out the other carriage window. "I think I saw James down that alley!" she cried out in frustration. It was all well and good that the men had moved so quickly, but leaving the women behind simply wasn't acceptable.

The carriage had been pressed into service as a chase vehicle. Kidder had gallantly offered to drive, once Sarah had made it clear that they would be going with or without him. Now the poor man slapped the reins against the horse's rump as the carriage bumped over cobbles and through muddy ruts.

"Every time I wear a new gown. _Every bloody time!"_ Elizabeth groaned, checking the shot in her pocket-pistol.

"Kidder, they're off to the left!" Sarah called out. Kidder yelled back, "Can't go that way, miss. Too narrow for the carriage. We'll catch up on the next lane."

They pulled up at the door of the tavern as a full-fledged brawl spilled out into the lane. Will, James and Geoffrey had their swords out and were holding a dozen evil-visaged patrons at bay, some of whom had begun slugging each other just on general principle. "Dear God, they've all gone mad!" Sarah gasped out.

Kidder began to climb down, then leaped out of the way as a cart squeezed past them in the narrow lane. "Move outta the way, you bloody buggers!" the driver yelled.

"Sarah, that's the man we met on the _Yorkshire! _Caitlyn's brother!" Elizabeth cried.

"What? _Oh no!_ James, this way!" Sarah gestured wildly for the men to join them. "She's in there, I'm sure of it." She pointed as the cart vanished around a corner.

Will took the reins as James and Geoffrey clambered up onto the seat beside him. Kidder was jammed unceremoniously into the compartment.

"I'm guessing they'll make for the docks, unless he's got somewhere on land to hide." James gave Sarah a questioning glance.

She nodded. "A ship's the only way to escape quickly."

"Then that's where we'll start, and spread out from there if we come up empty."

Sarah felt a wave of compassion for her brother. In his own quiet way he had been happy since Caitlyn came, and now he might lose her. It wasn't fair!

"We'll find her, James. Come hell or high water."

-

Tanner swallowed hard. He'd given up a profitable bit of business to take on O'Shea's "easy job", and now he was cornered at swordpoint. It took less than five seconds for him to understand that spilling what he knew was his only hope of saving his own skin. "He's supposed to be back here any minnit, unless his plan's gone wrong. Some wench he's sposed to be snaggin, he said she was his sister but," he snickered nervously, "it didn't seem likely to me, eh?"

Jack's expression went from satisfied to outraged in a single moment. Tanner realized he'd made a bad mistake, and death might very well be nigh. The specter was averted when Tanner caught a glimpse of O'Shea's cart rattling down the lane toward the wharf. "That's him now!" he pointed, any shred of loyalty vanishing in the need for self-preservation.

Jack watched in growing astonishment as the cart careened towards them. Further up the lane he could see a carriage approaching, driven by a madman. No sign of O'Shea, but he could have been concealed within either vehicle.

He turned back to Tanner and shouted, _"Which one?"_

"The cart!" Tanner gasped out. The truth became obvious a moment later, as the cart slowed down and four shadowy figures leaped into it.

-

Grimsby winced as Tanner's men climbed aboard, all shouting at once. He quickly gathered that disaster had struck, and whipped the horse up to speed.

O'Shea stuck his head out from beneath the cart's covering. "Get off me, ya buggers!" The men shifted slightly, but were much too busy hanging on for dear life. "Grim, what the bloody hell is goin' on, the dock's that way!"

"Can't do it, Sir Robert, your ship's been hijacked," Grimsby yelled back. "Don't worry, I've got an idea where we can hide… just keep yer head down."

-

Jack dashed to the lane's end a moment too late, as the cart began its speedy ascent up another road. He hadn't even time to curse in frustration, for a moment later the carriage was upon him. And _Will Turner_ was driving!

Instinct called. As the carriage flashed by, Jack made a grab for it. With a painful jerk he was swept off his feet, but held on as it swayed and bumped up the road after the cart. One nasty lurch swung him face-first into the window. "Ouch!" He still kept his grip, and was briefly amused to see the shocked face of Elizabeth staring out at him from inside. "We meet again, my lady!"

James leaned forward as Will drove, his eyes blazing. "We'll have them cornered soon. This road leads to the fort itself," he cried out. Geoffrey nodded, a grim smile crossing his face.

Grimsby drove like one possessed, his only goal to rid himself of the man who had gotten him into this. So far, O'Shea hadn't realized how closely they were being pursued. Grimsby decided to drive the whole pack of them straight to the fort, and hope that he could slip away once he'd alerted the soldiers to the presence of wanted men in their midst.

The approach to the fort was broad and straight, and the horse bolted outright, running flat-out through the gateway and into the main courtyard. The guards leaped back as the cart roared past, and Grimsby saw his opportunity, flinging himself into the shrubbery off to the side. The horse didn't stop until it came to the inner wall and could go no further, then stood shaking, its sides heaving.

O'Shea raised his face slowly above the edge of the cart.

"Are we there yet?"

Twenty-Six

The guards had barely recovered themselves when the pursuer's carriage flashed past, Jack still dangling wildly from the side. Will pulled the carriage to a screeching halt just in time to avoid crashing into the cart.

Jack gratefully relinquished his grip and landed on his feet, sword out. "I've come for you, O'Shea!" he growled at the petrified man staring out at him from the cart's coverings.

"Ah, God, m'doom is upon me! Up with you, you worthless scum, earn yer keep!" It was plain that O'Shea hadn't fully realized where he was. Tanner's four men knew their only hope of escape was a sudden and fierce assault. They clambered out of the cart and rushed forward at Jack, just as James and Geoffrey leaped to the ground and joined the fray. Will made the reins fast to a post before joining in, and Sarah flung open the carriage door.

Never one to fight if running would serve, O'Shea himself slit the ropes from Caitlyn's ankles. "Time to be a very good girl and do as you're told," he hissed, hauling her from the cart under cover of the fight.

Caitlyn was still seeing stars from the head-blow and cart ride, but as her eyes focused she glared at her brother. The stupid man had tied her hands in front, a mistake she hoped to make use of. "I'd kill you myself if I could, Robert."

"Always the loving sister. I'm thinking there must be a way out of here, and you'll be coming with me. I'm sure you couldn't bear to leave me to my fate," he added snidely, hauling her along as he ran puffing across the inner courtyard and down a passageway.

Elizabeth tipped the balance of the fray with her pistol, felling one man with a clean shot as the other three battled on. James looked up to see Caitlyn disappearing around a corner, her feet kicking wildly. He left Jack, Will and Geoff to finish the fight as he dashed off after her.

Sarah ran to the cart and snatched up Grimsby's cudgel. Her swing connected in a most satisfying manner with the head of the largest ruffian; he dropped like a stone. The other two, outnumbered, were quickly subdued. Jack bolted after James as Will and Geoff bound the men.

Though lit by the torches of the night watch, the small inner courtyard had been a dark place for James ever since his loss of Elizabeth's affections, and the subsequent escape of Jack Sparrow. Now he was chasing a madman through it to save a woman he barely knew – and loved with all his heart. He feared, with a growing dread, that tonight he might very well relive that nightmare of loss and defeat.

O'Shea's hope of escape faltered as he reached the ramparts with no exit in sight. Caitlyn kicked with all her might as they reached the foot of the campanile arch, but his grip was tight with the strength of desperation. "Damn – _damn!_ There must be a way!" he screamed, his gaze whipping from side to side but seeing nothing to give him hope. Then Norrington caught up to them.

Jack Sparrow was hot on his heels, hell-bent for vengeance and breathing ghastly threats as he drew his pistol. James' blade gleamed in the torchlight, and he smiled grimly as O'Shea blanched beneath the flush of exertion. "Sir Robert, you've taken something that's not yours. You will now give her back, at which time I shall decide if I shall have you hanged, or spit you like the pig you are."

Caitlyn's eyes widened and she nearly smiled. She'd never seen James' warrior side. She quite liked it.

Jack glanced at James with a new respect. "The bastard's in league with the devil himself, Commodore. We'll need to kill him four or five times before he stays dead."

O'Shea gripped Caitlyn by the back of her neck with one hand, and lay his knife at her throat. "I won't be doin' anything of the sort, Commodore, and you can tell your lackey to chuck his weapons aside or my dear sister here will feel the edge of my blade. You as well," he added, smirking.

Jack immediately tossed aside his pistol and sword. James wavered, saw the madness in his foe's eyes, and set his own blade down, shoving it aside with one foot.

Her brother was distracted, enjoying the momentary feeling of power. Caitlyn yanked her head back with all her might, and brought her bound hands up in a roundhouse punch that caught him square in the nose. He shoved her away from him, howling in pain. The sound was echoed by her own scream as his blade nicked her cheek.

With a roar of rage, James scooped up his sword and lunged forward, impaling O'Shea clean through. Jack moved nearly as quickly, grabbing one of the torches and swinging it hard against his enemy's head. With a final cry, O'Shea toppled over the ledge, the gleam of his flaming frock-coat illuminating his fall to the rocks below.

Their friends dashed up just in time to see James tenderly enfolding Caitlyn in his arms and helping her to a sitting position. "You're all right. Tell me you're all right!" he whispered urgently, running the palm of one hand across her wild auburn curls.

"Of course I'm all right," she replied. "But if you don't kiss me this minute, I am certain I will start to cry."

"A gentleman always grants a lady's request," he smiled.

"What on earth happened?" Sarah began, but Geoffrey shushed her with a finger to her lips. Elizabeth sought reassurance in Will's protective embrace.

Jack half-smiled as he gazed down at O'Shea's carcass, tumbling in the eddies amongst the rocks. "Well now. We only killed him thrice, but that ought to do the trick, aye?"

Geoff glanced to the roguish pirate in surprise. "I had no idea the Commodore had such interesting allies. I don't believe we've been introduced. Geoffrey Bainbridge, at your service," he added, bowing.

Jack scooped up his sword and sheathed it with practiced ease. "But you have _heard_ of me, mate." Gold teeth gleamed as he smiled, his palms upward in a nonchalant gesture.

"**_I'm Captain Jack Sparrow_." **

** Finis **


End file.
